


Once Upon a Time in Gotham

by Storm0fCrows



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Mother Panic, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm0fCrows/pseuds/Storm0fCrows
Summary: Gotham was a hard city. It's the kind of place that would smile to your face and shoot you in the stomach. Gotham was a city built from iron and blood. It was a hungry a city, it devoured those it considered weak and spat them out as damaged husks. Gotham was a city that wanted no more heroes. Frank Lawton knew this better than most, after all... this was his kind of city.OC main character.





	1. Catturati in Fari

_"_ You don't know how you got here  
You just know you want out  
Believing in yourself  
Almost as much as you doubt  
You're a big smash  
You wear it like a rash  
Star.

-U2, Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me

XxX

No one understands the true meaning of suffering until they are standing, soaked to the bone, over a manhole on Gotham's lower East Side in the middle of November while it was raining. Normally, one would shy away from such unpleasant set of circumstances, seeing as neither the weather nor the sewer were conductive for any human beings health but sadly this was just another Friday night for Frank Lawton.

Dressed in a black hoody, blue jeans, and a pair of faded black boots, Frank used an iron crowbar to ply the heavy manhole cover. At firs glance, there wasn't much that would make him stand out, he was decently tall, he looked like most men on his father's side of the family, light greenish brown, dark black hair with a hint of a tan from where the bloodline mixed with the natives of the necropolis that was Gotham, he weighed approximately two hundred pounds, mostly muscle but he wasn't ripped.

 _'Why am I here?'_ Was the question that ran through his head as the heavy metal gave way, almost instantly his nose was assaulted by the stench of shit and decay that made him want to lose his lunch. The answer to that question was a rather simple one and it was standing nigh two feet away from him. Harper Row was a beautiful girl that lived one floor below his apartment. She was dressed in faded black jacket, ripped jeans, and high boots. She had long black hair , dazzling brown eyes, and pretty smile

They met when three years ago, they were fifteen, Frank had gone to the basement in hopes of fixing the water heater and found Harper already working on it. He wasn't going to lie and say that they quickly became but repeated exposure over six months was enough for it to happen. Like most teenagers, Frank eventually developed feelings for the girl.

Not that he allowed himself to act on them, he was far too broken to do that. It seemed that death in the family was a common theme in Gotham, Frank and his brother Joe lost both their parents in a car accident, Harper witnessed her mother's murder. But there was one clear difference that put them in different walks of life.

While Harper still had her father and her family wasn't separated by the state, Frank was sent to Gather House while his brother finished his studies. He spent three years under their ' _care_ ' and for a time he wasn't sure he'd be able to recuperate.

They did things to him, unspeakable, horrendous, inhumane things, and for what? ' _A better world? A better Gotham? For whom?'_ He would ask himself whenever his mind drifted to a time when he was little more than a number and in response he heard Mother Patrick's voice ring in his ear singing that same old song.

 _'At Gather House, each one of our classrooms will be a garden where tomorrow blooms._ '

He would hear that retched woman's voice frequently… or more precisely whenever he was feeling agitated.

"How's working for Chang?" She asked in hopes of distracting him from the putrid stench. "Heard his blown himself up a few times."

"It stinks, but not as this." He pointed out rather lamely, usually the grid didn't smell this bad but knowing the city planners there may as well have put it so workers wee knee high in shit. "Are you sure this is the right section?"

Harper raised an eyebrow and gave him crooked smile. " Yep, hope it isn't too much for your delicate sensibilities." She said jokingly but Frank picked up the challenging undertone of her little jab.

"My sensibilities?" He asked in a level tone but stood as if he'd been offended, he placed a hand over his heart and dropped the crowbar dramatically. "Imagine what would Tim Drake think when you show up to that gala smelling like… " Frank took an overly exaggerated breath. "I wanna to say death but hell could work too."

Frank saw the punch to the shoulder happen before Harper could fully register his words, but he did nothing to avoid, instead choosing to laugh at her quickly reddening face, playing his part like he should… even though he regretted reminding himself of his crush's crush. Objectively, he could understand what made Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne's newest ward, attractive. Blue eyes, rich, fit, good hair, ect.. But would he trek through miles of sewage? Frank highly doubted that.

That was probably the biggest difference between Frank Lawton and Tim Drake. One was comfortable while the other would go to the ends of the world for that type of life.

"I don't wanna to hear another word out of either you or Cullen about Tim Drake." She said ducking into the manhole. "I complemented him once and the two won't shut up about it."

"I wonder why?" He responded while pulling up his grey shirt over his nose shirt and following after her. Getting out of the rain was enough of a bonus that he gladly didn't mind the smell. "It's not like you've freaking out about that raffle invitation for the past two weeks."

"Just for that I'm not bringing any food for you." That was the moment that Frank understood he'd pushed the joke farther than he'd intended to. Sure, it was entertaining getting a rise out of Harper at four in the morning, healthy even, but he wanted to be depraved of free food. Part of him blamed exhaustion, another blamed his poor impulse control, but mostly he blamed Cullen for using the word "gaga" when describing Harper's reaction to a pic of a shirtless Tim Drake. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

By this point they could hear the roar of the water becoming louder as they descended deeper into the Underground. It was going to be the last run for the night, an hour to get to the damaged part of the grid, two hours to fix it, and an hour back. Chances were he'd dig himself deeper if he didn't at least try to apologize.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

"Nope."

XxX

Frank Lawton awoke to the increasingly irritating buzzing of an out of reach alarm clock and a numb arm that was pinned under Harper's body. This wasn't an unusual occurrence as one would expect, it happened at least four times a week or whenever something went wrong with the circuits in the sewer and Gotham Electric decided that it would be a good idea to send two kids just out of high school into the underground, but mostly it was on a Friday.

Frank rubbed his forehead, as he always did when he woke up and looked around. It was cold, it was dark,, and all he wanted to do is close his eyes and roll closer to Harper… maybe take their foul smelling jacket but that seemed like too much work for minimal rewards. So, he stared at the slow wooden fan blade until the alarm quieted and Harper began to stir.

Eventually, Harper opened her eyes, revealing here dark brown orbs, and shook her head, causing the her black mane to whip around and smack his face, in retaliation he pulled his arm from underneath her and simultaneously stole her pillow. She grunted but otherwise refused to move as Frank got off the bed.

Had Frank thought himself the sentimental type he would of consider the sight of the dark haired beauty dressed in his oversized black jacket and a dirty pair o jeans a heartwarming sight, but he didn't so he was quick to exit the room.

The apartment was a decently sized by most people's standards, two bedroom a small living room, a kitchenette, and a bathroom with a shower.

Joe, his brother, was probably still working so it was mostly empty. A quick glance at the nearby clock revealed that it was almost eleven. There was a brief moment between him spotting the time and the speed in which his mind processed information. Frank groaned when he realized that he was late for a job opportunity and would have to go on without a bite of breakfast.

"Hope this is worth it."

Frank was jack-of-all trades, doing small and doubtlessly odd jobs between helping Harper with her work and being a lab "Assistant" to his parents' former employer. Most of it was good money but some of it was rather dubious, this opportunity would help him get Joe out of the Narrows and hopefully somewhere more comfortable.

He clumsily walked over to the sink and splashed water over his tired face. When that failed to wake him up, he put his head be beneath the water and twisted the cold water knob. He stood there for a full ten seconds before pulling him self out, he then ran a hand through his black hair.

Between Harper and him there was a grad to total of five glorious hours of sleep, which was pretty good considering their rather sporadic line of work. If he wasn't sure there would be work for Harper in the afternoon he would take the van to his quote un quote interview at the LexCorp building that meant he'd have to take the train, which under any other circumstance would have been a great but between the increase in murders and the time constraints it would be a problem.

It was then that someone began knocking, gently at first before becoming a bit more frantic. Frank opened the drawer and pulled out a large, freshly sharpened, kitchen knife, before slowly making his way towards the door.

The past few months had shown a slow but persistent escalation of violence throughout the city, it was subtle enough that more than a few people failed to notice it but the signs were there, as if Gotham was overdue for another storm. Children were being taken from their homes, their Parents drowned; new gangs were springing out of the woodwork; and the rate in which people were being shaken down by an under funded and overworked police force was becoming exponential; the cause was simple enough to understand, or at least for a layman like himself; without Batman the criminals were gaining their confidence back.

So, in other words it paid to be careful.

"Frank!" A familiar voice shouted from behind the door prompting him to lower the knife and quickly open the door. Cullen, stood about half head shorter than him and was skinnier than a toothpick, Frank mused, for a second, that had his mother been alive she would had let him leave the table for at least a week. Cullen was a carbon copy of his twin but their personalities were polar opposites. Where Harper was loud, outgoing and loved to wear plain sleeveless shirt, Cullen was quiet, shy, and always dressed in long sleeved t-shits that had and album covers printed on them.

Cullen didn't hesitate once he saw Frank, he slipped right by him and into the apartment and frantically looked around the room.

"Have you seen Harper?" He asked finally turning to Frank. "She didn't come back to the apartment yesterday." Cullen was out of breath and there was a large fresh bruise right under his left eye. The Row twins were as stubborn as Frank was quick on his feet, he knew Cullen wouldn't even take a pack of ice let alone the name of the punk who'd hit him.

Frank couldn't help but shake his head as he pointed towards the door leading to his room. But no matter how different the twins acted, they shared a need to keep each other safe, no matter the odds. This was evident with how quickly the tension seemed to melt away from Cullen.

"She's sleeping." He said in a horse voice, he could feel an itch coming on he'd have ask Joe to check it out before he got sick. Gotham's sewers were no joke, there were some nasty bacteria in those deep hollow holes where the founders of this city threw away Forgotten Dead. "What happened? Was it John?"

"No, they weren't from the Narrows." He answered dismissively, but by this point Frank couldn't really expect anything else. The a few teens had made it their bleak little lives mission to harass and borderline torture Cullen. "I've seen them in Park Row a few times but never around here." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They just took my wallet, nothing to get worked up about." Which would have been true had he been anyone else.

Frank had to admit that he was a bit of a hypocrite, he couldn't care less about the entirety of Gotham, yet he hated the indifference the city's people showed to one another. It was a pretty big character flaw, he admitted, but as long as the few people he actually cared about didn't mind, he really didn't either.

He could probably name the people he gave a damn about in one hand; There was Joe, his older brother, upstanding member of society and diligent nurse; Harper, engineer and Batman Fangirl, there were feeling there; Cullen, best friend... he suspected that he has a crush on Joe; Amelia Robbins, old woman who moved up from New York after the death of a neighbor, she gave him food every once in a while; and technically there was a fifth but she didn't really bare mentioning.

A quick glance at the clock told him to leave the subject till Harper was awake, to make Cullen a bit more forthcoming with details. He was already running late as it was and quick wiff of his clothing screamed that he desperately needed to shower.

Frank sent Cullen a look that let him know that the discussion was nowhere near over. Cullen looked away, pretending to not have seen him, and that he wasn't biting his lower lip.

"Don't wake her up." He told Cullen as he made his way towards the bathroom. "Not until you're ready to talk." Out of the corner of his eye, Frank eyed the vibrant red backpack that held the keys to his future.

XxX

There was something serene about Gotham transit, it was probably the only constant in the crumbling city, at least it was for Frank Lawton but then again he had always been a strange one. He enjoyed riding the tracks, with his eyes closed as he blasted Ennio Morricone's masterpiece _L'estasi dell'oro_ in crudely made headphones, and sketched whatever came to mind in his old brown leather bound notebook. Frank enjoyed the gentle sway as it was accompanied by the melodic singing of Edda Dell'Orso, it almost made him feel like he was part of the film he'd been named after.

The compartment was nearly empty, except for the old haggard beggar that always sat at its farthest edges, mumbling about hellfire and blood. Frank never talked to him and the beggar pretended not to notice Frank. It was probably due to Frank's less than common and exceedingly infamous last name than it did any form of silent understanding between the high school senior and the deranged "Holy" man.

Out of the ten million people he could be related to, out of all the scum and dredges of humanity, he was related to Gotham's least favorite son, Floyd Lawton or as he was more commonly referred to Deadshot. Sure, they distant cousins, who had never crossed paths but that didn't matter in a city where a family name indicated both your status and approachability. Had he inherited his mother's last name he would've been looked over and otherwise ignored, but then again it would have become too much of a hassle in a place like the Narrows.

The Lawton name brought both protection and isolation, a double edge sword if there ever was one.

"Arriving at Kane Street Station." A smooth masculine voice echoed from the three decade old speaker. "Next stop Pikney Way."

The train pulled into Kane Street Station with a shudder, a groan and a loud screech, like usual it was six minutes behind schedule an like usual the compartment filled with the usual drabble; there were a few teens with strange haircuts and even stranger sun glasses, more than likely part of a gang with big dreams that would probably be smashed to pieces once they encountered one of either the Penguin, Black Mask, or the Joker; then there were the men in worn suits that were either going to the same job they'd been going to for the past thirty years or were trying to appeal to some prick that would give them a shitty loan so they could continue living in the depths of the Bowery; and then there were the faceless multitude that came to hear the beggar preach.

"The Gotham Transit Authority would like to remind you to report anything strange or suspicious behavior to the conductor or contact Emergency Services. Remember, together we can build a better Gotham." Frank barely even notices the wide birth the other passengers were giving him as they shuffled into the train like wild cattle. He simply kept his eyes closed until the starts moving again and he could feel the rocking once more.

 _'Three more stops.'_ He reminded pulling a small match from his pants pocket, he brought it up to his mouth and started to slowly naw on it, like his father used to do.

His father had been obsessed with the old Italian Westerns and it was a trait that he'd passed onto Frank's older brother, Joe, before his death. Joe had taken to pass it onto him even though Frank much preferred his quiet tinkering to loud guns, but one would have to be a special kind of idiot to walk the streets of Gotham without some sort of protection. Take his friend Harper Row as an example, she designed and constructed her own homemade taser and she carried it absolutely everywhere.

Frank had a batarang concealed by the sleeves of his grey hoody. He'd found after a night in the sewers with Harper, their guess was that Batman was either fighting Killer Croc or Scarecrow, as those two tended to prefer the close courters combat that the underground offered. She'd gotten one of her own but she saw it as a memento, he saw it for its practical applications.

It was a versatile tool. Whenever his brother got back home from exhausted from his night shifts at Elliot Memorial Hospital and misplaces the can opener… or when he needs to open a package, or if Frank ever needed to stop one of those jackasses that regularly harassed Cullen, it served as both a deterrent and a handy cutting tool.

By now the train was over halfway over the Finger River on its way into Gotham's beautiful outer shell running parallel to Centennial Bridge. The sun was finally just rising above the horizon bathing the purple sky into an a dark and vibrant orange that filled the compartment with its natural light.

Frank kept on drawing as the song switched from the calming _L'estasi dell'oro_ to the more stimulating _The Man Who Stole the World_ covered by Midge Ure. He could feel his hand quicken as the music accelerated its tempo.

With any luck he'd be done before he reached Union Station. Sadly, Frank wasn't considered to be a lucky person.

Another five minutes passed before there one of Gotham's delinquent youth grew enough spine to approach him. Frank couldn't really blame for thinking he was an easy target, he wasn't buff in the slightest, but he was lean. He was the one that climbed the poles to help Harper fix the vandalized or damaged lines, he was usually the last guy throwing punches, and he knew how to run. Now, the fact of the matter was that as much as he preferred to deal with the problem quickly he couldn't risk damaging the contents of his backpack

Frank opened his eyes and glared with his dark grey-greenish eyes. These new kids were different to the older criminals in only one way; A mugger just wants the wallet; these brats were only in it for the blood. Had Frank not been there, they would have turned to the men in suits, he didn't doubt that at least four of the men in suits had some type of fire arm on their person, but this was Gotham and none would lift a finger to help a kid from the Narrows.

So, Frank did the only thing he could do: he took off his headphones and placed it with the eight-year old MP3 player in his worn red backpack.

"Come on, baby, come alive!" He heard one of them shout their approaching friend, the voice sounded female.

"Nail the Spud!" Another shouted, this time male. "Slice and Dice."

The kid was grinning wildly by the time he'd reached Frank and had Frank been able to see his eyes he was pretty sure they'd be wild too. He knew how people like him and his friends thought, they responded to violence and intimidation. Mother Patrick had taught him as much.

_'We're growing Gotham's future, strong and true, to build a better world for you and me."_

Frank snapped.

It wasn't like the movies, there was no stare down, no dramatic tension, and no exchange of banter. Frank moved just as quickly as Harmonica and as mercilessly as his namesake, his fist connected with the bridge of the kid's nose. Frank didn't relent, he grabbed him by the jacket pushed forward making sure that he knocked him over. Once he was on the floor, Frank was quick to pin him down and drove his fist once more this time he felt the bone give way as his knuckle connected. He pulled back his fist and slammed it right back down for good measure, causing the hot blood to spatter onto his hoody.

His movements were automatic, ingrained into him by a crazy nun and her cadre of scientists.

Gather House preyed on the one resource no decent human being ever wished to exploit. Children where their currency, normal children to the point where they became useful tools of influence. Seventeen was given strength that was only matched by her brutality; Eight was altered to be beyond beauty which quickly caused his stable psyche crumble; then there was Frank himself… number Ten, enhanced senses and a boosted his resistance or was it stamina? Things got fuzzy whenever he tried to remember the specifics.

Once he was sure his would be attacker was unconscious, Frank looked up at his frieds to find that they hadn't even moved from their spots on the train instead they seemed to be satisfied with laughing and pointing at the bleeding boy, like a pack of deranged hyenas. The rest of them were no better, the men in suits were looking every which way, in an effort to pretend they weren't party to whatever was happening around them, and the beggars were too enthralled by the Deacon's words to look away from the sermon.

Frank hated Gotham and if his brother hadn't urged him to stay in it he would have left it behind him when he hit his eighteenth birthday. There were a few people, like Harper and Joe, who still thought Gotham was worth saving and then there were people like Frank, who were just looking for an out and he found it.

There were always devils willing to make deals, but Lex Luthor was just the only devil whom was willing to do business with a teen. Sure, he wasn't a savant like Harper but he knew a few things… things that even Luthor with his massive intellect didn't know.

"Now approaching Pikney Way." Frank went over to his seat and grabbed his bag before moving to the doors. "Next stop Union Station, Wayne Tower."

"That spud is billy nasty!" He heard one of the kids say as the train came to a screeching halt. The second the doors slid apart, he went right through them into the filthy grey remnant of a golden age that had long since passed. Frank was sure it had been beautiful once but after Massacre of the Hoods six years ago, there wasn't a soul who dared get off the train. From there the violence spread like a disease until Mayor Hill quartered off this small but proud neighborhood.

He was now in the heart of the Bowery.

The heat of Gotham's No-Man's-Land.

But at least it was morning, so most of its inhabitants were either too drunk to be a threat or too tired from their long nights. All he could do was soldier on and hope he didn't run into someone he couldn't out run.

With a deep breath Frank made his way around the dilapidated structure and deeper into No-Man's-Land.

XxX

Alexander Luthor stood smiling at the top of his tower overlooking the city he was helping rebuilding. It was of course just another publicity stunt to draw the courts attention away from his less accepted activities and to create some goodwill with that idiot Bruce Wayne.

The thing that had Lex smiling was that his large investment was already paying off. He had created an opportunity for the disenfranchised youth of Gotham, to steal them away from Wayne Tech before they had the chance to make a better offer. The probability that at least one gifted teen would fall into his net was low but he had eventually found one… actually he found two.

Frank Lawton was eighteen years old and had created a working, and more importantly stable, method of creating Xenothium or at least so he claimed.

According to Mercy the boy was intelligent, which could mean a major boon if he joined LexCorp but troublesome should Wayne or one of his people manage to lure him away with their childish idealism. His file spoke of academic excellence for his two tears in exceedingly competitive Gather House, and he even managed to graduate early once he was inducted into Solomon street High School.

His parent's background in engineering and chemistry added to his credibility, especially their work with the late Professor Chang, and his group in Jump City. If the boy had retained enough information from his dead parents to synthesize Xenothium the he would be an indispensible asset, doubly so if Lex could draw in Harper Row along with him.

Of that he had little doubt.

The smile dropped the moment he felt his private phone begin to vibrate in his pants. He was certain he had specifically instructed Mercy that he was not to be bothered until after his noon meeting with the Lawton boy.

"What happened?" He answered in the most controlled voice he could manage.

"We lost Lawton." Was his bodyguard's crisp response.

"Of all the incompetent-!" He sneered into his phone before cutting himself off. "How exactly did your people lose him?"

"There was an incident on the train, a so called 'Child of Croc' attempted to assault Frank Lawton. " She explained calmly. "Lawton then proceeded to neutralize him and then exited the train before the officers on the train arrived on scene our agent was unable to follow."

"Retrieve him."

"Of course, sir." With that he hung up the phone, the sneer never left his face as he made his way to his office on the floor bellow. He entered his temporary workstation and found that it was not empty as he had thought it would be. Sitting in a simple back chair across from his desk was none other than the devil himself, Bruce Wayne.

Without hesitation, a charming smile spread across his face. "Bruce Wayne!" He greeted with enthusiasm and predictably Wayne turned gave his own false smle and rose from his seat to greet him.

"Lex Luthor," He responded clasping Lex's arms. "I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced but we have something to discuss that was-is rather urgent."

"No problem at all. "Take a seat."" Lex said dismissively as he pulled to glasses from beneath one of the drawers and a bottle of Scotch. "Have you finally come to sell me that pesky Applied Science division?" It was a joke, of course, Wayne Industries was booming thanks to their Applied Science Division and as much of an idiot Wayne was he wasn't dumb enough to sell his biggest source of profit. He poured the amber liquid into the crystal glasses and pushed one over to Gotham's favorite son.

But one could not fault Lex for trying.

Wayne chuckled and shook his head lightly. "As much as I would like to sell it to you, Lex, my board would kill me."

He forced himself to laugh, "Then I can't possibly see a reason for your presence here, Bruce, I honestly can't, so unless this will affect my company in the immediate future I'm going to have to ask you to leave, I have another meeting soon."

"The subject of your noon meeting is precisely what I want to talk to you about." Wayne replied calmly. "I'm willing to offer you ground floor access to a joint project with Wayne Enterprises and S.T.A. R. Labs-."

"If I drop Frank Lawton." The bald genius finished, Wayne had bigger balls than Lex could ever imagine. "You do realize that whatever you offer pales in comparison to the production of Xenothium?"

"The chance to help develop a clean, effective energy source, that has ample science behind it, with guaranteed massive profit margins and building some good will at the same time." Bruce said plainly, dropping his fake smile and looking at him with a perfect poker face. "or the _theorized_ production of a highly unstable ore, that has no real market value, and will cause a few governmental organizations to keep a closer eye on your dealings… personally I believe that there's too high a risk compared to the reward, but that just me."

Lex stared at his fellow businessman and glared. Though Wayne's logic was sound it was obvious that the only reason he was being dissuaded was because Wayne wanted to the boy for himself. Now, Lex understood that it wouldn't be in his companies best interest if the authorities found another excuse to halt LexCorp's activities but Xenothium's untapped potential in the hands of buffoons would be as big a tragedy as the day Superman first darkened the sky's of Metropolis.

The sad thing about the entire matter was that he couldn't refuse Wayne's offer, not when public opinion was so low. Inwardly, Lex scowled but outwardly he extended he had a blank expression as he pretended to ponder the best option.

The best solution was rather simple one, but it did lack taste. He could get a local to deal with the problem, it would be quick, clean, and surprisingly easy to orchestrate. It would probably take years before his scientist managed to recover the data but such was life

In fact, he had the perfect pawn in mind.

All he had to do now was get rid of Wayne, and make few calls.

XxX

The Bowery had once been part of the heart of the city that had become Gotham, now it was barely an afterthought in the mind of the average citizen. Its decline started when the last of the Pikneys disappeared, days after the death Alan Wayne.

From there on it had been one horror after the next until all the decent people up rooted and move the other neighborhoods until only those who enjoyed the violence and those too poor remained.

His father's side of the family had hand in it, of that he was certain, the Lawton's had made their wealth from buildings until it became too toxic to own. Not that he actually blamed them, they were black hearted bastards but so were most people that came into the city, Waynes, Kanes, Cobblepots, Arkhams, Lawtons, they all did their best to survive in this ravenous city.

Just like him.

Always looking after number one.

Frank tried to stick to the more populated areas, where there was at least a cop car patrolling even if it was for show. The closed down Jezebel Center was interestingly the quickest and safest route though the Bowery, this was only possible thanks to the efforts of Oswald Cobblepot, who frank doubted he saw himself as anything besides less than Gotham's greatest Don, he paraded around the city in a snow white limo and the public ate it up.

Frank had been ten when people like the Penguin stated popping up, his parents had made him and his brother move away right before the year long Blackout, so, he wasn't partial to any of the city's villains. They'd moved to Jump City for work some independent think tank headed by one strange looking old name that went by the name of Chang, who upon his return to Gotham had taken Frank under his wing or so he claimed. They lived there for about three years before the accident, then there were those two years he spent in Gather House, a boarding school for troubled youths… or so they claimed, and then finally his brother somehow managed to get him out. They could barely afford the Narrows back then, until Joe snagged a job at Elliot Memorial.

He was born in Gotham and like all those born to her, he was bound to her but unlike the many Frank didn't feel the connection… that feeling that he owed the city his body and soul.

Frank glanced at the glass-covered ceiling hoping to catch a glimpse of a street name but found that the nearest posts were vandalized to the pint that he names of the streets were just faded out letters and ugly illegible scribbles. He turned the corner and as luck would have it he spotted the roof of the now defunct Gotham's Merchant Bank. It was one of the few remaining landmarks that the Bowery's inhabitants dared not deface and once more it was thanks to another one of the city's villains.

With a landmark directly in front of him Frank turned around, now confident that he knew how to exactly get to Founder's Island.

The problem that he had living outside of the city for a portion of his life was that he could barely keep track with ever changing cityscape. Between Gotham's elite that wished to change the city at a whim and the City's underbelly who fought to change it to theirs, it was a wonder how people seemed to find their way around.

Three blocks later had him standing at the steps of Solomon Wayne's courthouse, which meant that he was out of the Bowery and at the northern fringes of Park Row. If the courthouse wasn't enough of an indicator of the change in neighborhoods, the cleaner streets and larger police presence should have cleared up any confusion.

Frank had grown up in Park Row, a few blocks away on Fleet Street, between the GCPD building and Olympus, the nightclub. His parents were friends with a local cop and his wife, who had transferred from Chicago to Gotham, along with his family. He remembered being friends with the officer's daughter, she had red hair and had a small dog that she took almost everywhere. Her name was Barbara

He briefly contemplated looking up if Babs, to see what had happened to long haired firecracker he'd used to know, but a quick glance at his phone quickly dissuaded him from the notion. He was late as it was, and besides what was he going to say after eight years of no contact? With three of those eight years living in the same city? He wasn't going to spoil a childhood memory on a fancy.

Seeing that he wouldn't make it to LexCorp building on time he continued on foot Frank signaled down a bright yellow taxi. There was something unique about Gotham's Taxi service and that was that they didn't give a damn about their passenger's days or why they were visiting the city, they just wanted to know where you were going.

He opened the door and was hit with the smell of old leather and an expired air freshener. Frank almost recoiled but with the thought of the generous he would be payment for the formula he pushed through his disgust "LexCorp on Founder's Island, West Side." Those were the only instruction the cabbie needed. Without acknowledgment the car shot forward, swerving through traffic, like they were being chased by the Joker himself.

The only other sound besides the rattling of the engines was the cheery voice of Gotham's most popular news anchor, Vicky Vale. Oddly enough, Frank didn't have an opinion about the blonde journalist unlike the majority of the people he knew. To most Vicky Vale was far more polarizing than the news she so dutifully reported, some found her to be a joke while other considered her a decent reporter.

Frank had to admit that some of the stories she covered were just fluff pieces but there was always something important, like the missing children

"…In other news, sources claim to have spotted Bruce Wayne exiting the LexCorp building. What could this mean to Gotham's economy? More detail will be revealed as the story develops…."

To pas the time quicker, Frank unzipped his back pack and pulled out his note book to review his latest doodle. It wasn't much detail wise but it managed to resonate with the deeper parts of his psyche and inspire something that he hadn't felt since the last time Mother Patrick sent him under doctor Varma's knife….

Fear.

He remembered the crushing weight of true absolute fear clearer than he did anything else that happened on that horribly rainy day. He remembered the sound of metal collapsing under pressure as his family van rolled of the road after one of the wheels gave way, he remembered shards of glass ripping through his shirt and digging into his skin, and the momentary bouts of weightlessness, but above all else he remembered the fear.

He remembered the smell of gasoline being drowned out by a steady flow of blood and his father's words were lost to the rhythmic pounding in his ears.

He remembered that white hooded figure, depicted in his rough drawing, approaching the car with a long blade in hand and then a blast of red energy that sent it flying back.

_"At Gather House, each one will be remade they can save the city long decayed."_

Frank quickly closed the notebook and carelessly threw it into his back, but by then they'd already crossed the bridge and were well into Miagani island, the gateway to the richer part of Gotham. Frank pushed back the chills that were running up and down his spine at the fragments of haunting memory in an effort to enjoy the public face of Gotham.

This was the part of the city that people actually came to see. The lights, the glamor, and the overpriced gift shops… the hole nine yards. He kept a keen eye on the billboards for any shows that might he might go see if a deal with Luthor could be made. Lion king, Peter and the Starcatchers, not Wicked, Don Giovani, Cats, things that he heard his mom talk about but never really got a chance to go.

Sadly, that part of town was rather small and before he knew it they were passing the old orphanage on the hill and were crossing into Founder's island, that's when his phone vibrated once, indicating that he'd gotten a new email. Frank pulled the phone from his pocket and opened it without hesitation.

He should have hesitated.

The email had come from the office of none other than Lex Luthor himself, typed by his secretary no doubt, and was informing him, in as much of a polite voice as Frank could imagine the richest man in Metropolis having (Which was mocking at best), telling him that he and the board had chosen to follow another proposition from a student at Gotham Academy. It apologized for any inconvenience that this development may have incurred…

" _The path is clear, the goal is well in sight."_

Frank wanted to scream and thrash and do all those childish things he never really got to do with two scientist parents but he restrained himself. Instead opting to ask the driver a simple question.

"How much to go to china town?" He said in a surprisingly even voice.

"We go by the meter." The cabbie stated bluntly.

"Then please take the Western most gate."

"Sure thing, kid."

XxX

Malcolm "Mad-Eye" Sweeny was having a pretty good day so far, he'd gotten a big breakfast at the Moonlight diner at the junction of 20th and 21st for free busted some of Falcone Jr. men's teeth in, and gotten a new suit courtesy of the local tailor fit for a man of his size. Now, that wasn't saying he was fat that just meant he was big six feet seven inches and a hulking set of muscles. He was by far the biggest member of Black Mask's crew.

Mad-Eye used to be a boxer, hell he even gave Wildcat a run for his money but that was before some rookie took out his left eye. Of course he killed the brat and was kicked to the curb but he was picked up and given a job perfect for his talent.

Like most members his usit was white, he kept the mask in the glove compartment of new Lincoln MKT for special days, like when the boss needed him to take care of somebody. Currently was overseeing two traitors who thought they could steal from Roman Sionis along with three armed newbies as tey dug their own graves.

The bastards were crying and begging like the worthless pieces of scum they were. All of this brought a smile to his ugly scarred face.

His phone rang with the boss's ringtone. He gave the sign and the three rookies opened fire at the thieves quieting them once and for all in a hail of bullets.

"Good morning, Mister Sionis." He greeted respectfully. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I need a building cleared." Black Mask' gravely voice rang out through the phones speaker.

"No survivors?"

"No, I wanna send a message."

"No problem boss." He said cheerily. "Just send me the address."

XxX

Frank moved dejectedly through the huge crowds of tourists that amassed at the Western Gate for the large market towards an restaurant that went by the name Golden Duck. He wouldn't recommend eating there, the only reason he was even stepping foot in that restaurant was because Professor Chang worked and lived in the floors above.

In that specific order.

The angry teen went inside and without even greeting the owners ascended the stairs. Chang was undoubtedly working in his lab on the second floor, playing with his so-called "secret" project. Frank hadn't realized that he was making a great amount of noise until a bi-spectacled man, who looked to be ninety stepped past the doors threshold holding what frank could only describe as ray gum and aiming it at his face.

The next thing Frank knew was that he was dodging a crimson beam of energy, there was no doubt in his mind that had he been slower by a hair, half of his face would have melted off.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Frank uncharacteristically shouted at the old professor.

"What's wrong with me?" Chang said astonished. "I'm not the one stomping up the stairs like a deranged bull, Franklin. I pay for my privacy, that means no one come up here besides me and you." He said in a matter of fact tone that did nothing for Frank's mood as he retreated into his laboratory. "You told me you were coming over at one-o-clock. So, tell me how was is supposed to know you weren't just some hooligan here to rob me?"

Frank followed, feeling that they'd had the same conversation about a thousand and a half times. The lab was pretty modest considering its owner. There were three computers a machine that Frank never asked what it did, a table where the tools and materials were kept, and a black curtain that hid a section of the room.

Chang pulled a stool from underneath the tool table

"Luther didn't take the proposal." Frank said taking the seat offered to him.

"I know." Chang said dismissively.

"What do you mean you know?"

"It means, that had Luthor decided that your method was worth his time, you would still be selling out your mother's legacy for quick money." He said stepping behind the curtain. "You're lucky I almost finished with my project or I would have kicked your ass from here to Jump city.'

Ah, now that was a familiar argument.

Professor Chang did not approve of Frank idea of selling his parents' formula and he did not keep it a secret. The amount of times Frank had caught the old man guilt tripping him had risen in the month approaching the meeting.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Yes, you did." The professor said from behind the curtain. "You could have kept quiet and worked."

"And let Joe wither away in this fucking city."

"Watch your tongue boy or I'll wash it for you!" He humphed. "Your brother is a simple man. He is happy that he has you in his life, where he is or how busy he is doesn't matter as long as he has you."

There was heavy silence between them, but it was one that drained the agitation from Frank but not the hunger or the exhaustion. So, he sat there unmoving, waiting for Chang to ask him to do something. After a good twenty minutes, the Professor finally broke the silence.

"Come here."

Frank nearly fell from his seat at the suddenness of the command but did as he was asked. He didn't even realize he was crossing the curtain until he was staring a the most badass piece of tech he'd seen since that one time Harper actually managed to get a picture of the Batmobile.

It was a suit unlike anything he'd ever seen. Its main body was mostly black with exception of a large shining Red X that ran the length of its chest; the boots, hands and fore arms were grey; the helmet/cowl was mostly black but had a stylized white skull covering the face portion and another red was stamped on it forehead; the suit also had a grey utility belt with an a smaller x on the buckle.

"This is the product of eight years of research and countless sacrifices." Chang said reverently, as if speaking about something that greatly touched soul. "Your parents helped design its prototype, your mother found a way to power this suit nearly indefinitely, your father made it so a normal human could wear it, a nameless boy gave it an identity, and I gave it my life."

Frank took a step forward and ran his hands over the shining red x on the armors chest. "Your life?"

"I gave away valuable time I could have been advancing my career to honor your parent's last project and the amount of money I spent on materials was astronomical." He said clicking his teeth together. "If that's not giving one's life away I don't want to know what is."

"I don't know what to say…" And Frank meant those words. He never suspected professor Chang to be the honorable type, nor did he know what his parents wanted with a super suit, but all that palled to the fact that his parents had built something so marvelous…

"You will say nothing and put it on."

Frank did as he was told. Quickly, he took off his clothes and put them in his backpack, he then proceeded it on without further instruction of Professor Chang. The suit felt like molded to his skin but not in an uncomfortable way, it felt… right for lack of a better word. The moment he closed up the suit, he didn't feel tired or hungry but instead he felt stronger and healthier than he ever had.

"The suit is composed of-" Chang never got to finish his sentence he was torn apart by a series of bullets coming from beneath the floor. Frank Immediately went to cover his face and eyes. The shooting continued for half a minute but by that point professor Chang was an unrecognizable pile of red meat, bone fragments, and blood splatter and Frank he was physically fine having been protected by the suit, mentally he felt numb.

He'd seen plenty of death in Gather Hose, especially if Seventeen was involved, but nothing like this. Professor Chang had been some one he actually gave a damn about even if it was below the woman that gave him the occasional fruit and like nothing they just killed him…

Instinctively Frank grabbed his backpack, that was now riddled with bullets and secured it on his back.

Frank wasn't about to blindly attack the men responsible, they had guns and he… he wasn't exactly sure what he had. He didn't know the amount of damage the suit could take or its combat capabilities…

Ensnared by his frantic thoughts Frank didn't notice the heavy steps coming up the stairs until the door flew open. This inadvertently caused Frank's right hand to brush over the utilitybelt's buckle.

The next second found Frank standing atop the rooftop across the street from the Golden Duck. He could see the carnage from his new vantage point and it wasn't pretty. There were bodies in the street covered in glass, which meant the shooters opened fire once inside. He could spot at least seven dead or dying. One of them stepped out of the restaurant.

A big man in a white suit who wore an unmistakable black mask. Though he couldn't understand what was being said he could hear how relaxed the murderer was, Frank would almost dared to say happy but that didn't feel right either.

Frank stood there for a moment longer, unsure what to do next.

That was until he turned around and ran. There was no destination in mind he just needed to get away.

His mind reeling from shock failed to register the edge of the rooftop and promptly fell into an empty back alley. He hit the fire escape, which caused him to land on his head. The suit absorbed the blows but he didn't get up.

Instead he just closed his eyes for what would feel like a second but before he did he heard Mother Patrick's horrible voice.

_"At Gather House, the world can be set right"._

XxX

When Frank finally opened his eyes the sun had gone down and the moon was high in the sky. Frank pushed himself off the cold ground and slowly pulled himself upright as his mind processed the days events.

Chang was dead.

Luther gave the job to someone else.

He hadn't eaten

And he got a super suit.

Frank almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. He needed to distract himself…

...So he started walking, towards what he considered to be home.

It would take him hours but hopefully he would be able to make sense out of everything.

And so the hours passed and eventually he made it back to the Narrows via sewers but he did. He came up about two blocks away from his apartment and by that point in the night the streets were clear, so he didn't have to worry about people freaking about the suit.

He made it to the front door but froze when he saw the door open. A second later, Frank heard someone scream and assumed that Joe was being attacked. He rushed in and saw group of teens some he recognized from the neighborhood other's he didn't repeatedly kicking huddled body between them. He didn't give them a warning, he flew into action slamming his armored fist into anything that moved occasionally hearing the crack of bones as they snapped. He heard things like: "It's the Bat!" and "Batman?!" It didn't matter who they thought he was as long as they got the hell out of the building. He swung his fist blindly, connecting to whichever body was unlucky enough to be in the path of his fits. Their bones gave way under the unrelenting force of the suit. They tried to fight back but the hits they managed to land on the armored body barely registered in Frank's enraged state. Every strike that they landed simply spurred him to fight harder, more violently until hthe faceless mass of invaders made their escape.

Seeing as there was no one else to fight shouted, releasing all the rage and hurt in what sounded like a synthetic roar thanks to the suit's voice distortion device.

Frank was brought back by the whimpering sounds of the beaten body behind him. The armored teen felt horrible as wave of relief flooded him when he spotted the familiar form of Cullen instead of his brother, but that relief was only temporary as he noticed his friend's condition.

Without thinking Frank picked Cullen up in his arms and rushed into his apartment.

His brother kept a plethora of first aid kits scattered in the living room, his hop was that he could help his friend.

Frank set him on the couch and took off towards the kitchen. He filled a bag of ice from the fridge, snatched a bright red first aid kit, and dutifully returned with both items promptly in his hands. He then tore open the kit, grabbing a wipe that already had anti bacterial alcohol on and was about to dab it on the affected area when Cullen's eyes flew open and he recoiled at the sight of him.

Without thinking frank unclasped the helmet and threw it across the room. "Cullen!" He shouted when his friend tried to strike him, with one hand he pinned both flaying hands and with the other he forced Cullen to look at him. That was when Frank noticed the full extent of what they'd done to him, sure they beat the living snot out of him but they also tore out pieces of his hair, cut others, but there were patches were it had been ripped. "It's Frank!" The boy seemed to relax before he started rambling between sobs.

"I-I tried to stop-them." He said through tears. "I promise I tried."

Frank didn't know what to do… he had never been in the position where he needed to be the one comforting another, so he did the only thing he could possibly think of he released Cullen's hands and with that arm soothingly he began patting his back.

"You did great, Cullen." He said trying to get him to relax so he could tend to his wounds.

"I th-thought they were going to kill me, Frank…" He said taking a big gulp of air. "But they just wanted to hear me scream.." Tears were flowing down freely now and try as he might Frank couldn't deny the bubbling want to get back out there and hunt those bastards down. "What kind of people-." Cullen suddenly gave out to exhaustion allowing Frank plenty of time to start disinfecting wounds and bandaging what needed to be bandaged.

Once he was done, Frank calmly walked over to his helmet. He picked it and made his way to his room where he quickly shed the armor, storing it under the bed and changed into the clothes that were in his backpack.

There were holes in them but no one would notice in the dim lighting.

He came out just in time to see his front door open and after the day he just had he could be excused for pulling out the batarang. Harper came in dressed in a beautiful red dress with her hair braided spectacularly, and for once she dint have the nose ring… it was a shame that her faced was etched with worry.

Frank relaxed but not before she spotted him with the metal bat shaped ninja star in hand. "What happened?" She asked in that voice she reserved for the most dire of circumstances. It was a valid question and sadly one Frank very weak answer for… besides the obvious.

For what it was worth, he wanted to explain but the words refused to form. He wasn't sure if it was the shock settling in, or if Harper's beauty had taken his breath away, or if his frizzled mind had finally decided to say fuck it, but he was sure that whatever was going to happen matters weren't helped by the loud growl that had originated in his stomach.

The day just seemed to go on forever.

o0o0o0o0o

 


	2. Ascolta il Suolo

"I am hiding from some beast  
But the beast was always here  
Watching without eyes  
Because the beast is just my fear  
That I am just nothing  
Now it's just what I've become  
What am I waiting for  
It's already done…"

-The Bravery, Believe

XxX

James Worthington Gordon was exhausted but he looked ready and alert if people didn't look too closely. The former Detective had spent half the night examining the footage of Batman beating the living daylights out of rioters in Arkham Asylum along side 'Joker. The man was gone for months and as soon as hell breaks loose he's there to lend a helping hand, when the GCPD needed it.

He carefully shambled past the gore on the first floor, knowing that none of those people were the intended target of this massacre. Six dead on the main room, four in kitchen and one in the meat locker and only one in the second floor. He made a mental note of the black scorch mark on the wall by the stairs. The ascent to the second floor was a slow but fruitful effort despite his bad knees.

"Something's missing." Was the first thing the red haired, cream coated Police Commissioner noticed as he stepped into the laboratory of Professor Dao Chang, disgraced scientist and suspected super-criminal. James Gordon rubbed his temples as the boys from the lab tried to catalogue every inch of the second floor crime scene. The entire floor had mob hit written all over it, except, that as far he could tell there wasn't any reason behind it.

There were bullets holes that ripped through the roof of the ceiling of the first floor and tore one of the only victim on the second floor apart. The ammunition used was definitely military in origin, probably designed to deal with the growing number of meta-humans, there was a scorch mark on the wall by the stairs, which just didn't fit the timeline of events that the first responders had built for when he arrived.

Seven years ago, before the Red Hoods, he could see any of the remaining families orchestrating something like this but the Red Hoods did come along and with them came the only figure they truly feared, the Batman. No one wanted to piss him off because they knew he'd take them down harder and faster than any of them could possibly prepare for.

They wouldn't risk something like this, at least not without reason.

'But what?' Jim really wished he could get Harvey's opinion on this but a murder Old Gotham kept him busy. Fifty seven year John Doe, stuck to the wall of his apartment by nighty seven small knives was bad, the fact that he'd left a message for the GCPD in linseed oil warning them of Bruce Wayne's scheduled death made the whole debacle even worse. With half the force tailing Wayne in hopes of being Gotham's hero and the other half securing Arkham after the riot, things were spread thin.

What got him worried about the case with the John Doe was the whole coin thing stuck in the back of his throat. Gotham's legends tended to come to life and he wasn't looking forward to facing an entity like the Court of Owls.

The Feds weren't gonna be any help, as soon as the news hit about a massacre involving Chang they'd sent him a file that was almost completely redacted; A.R.G.U.S. tried to butt in but hey were quickly called away because of a developing situation in Amnesty Bay; and D.E.O. were just looming over Sawyer like bad smell.

Jim didn't like but the Mayor didn't seem to mind, so there wasn't much he could really do. Instead the forty six year old Commissioner decided to exert his energies on the case in front of him, namely on the things he could see plain view. Towards the back of the room, near the mangled corpse of the deceased professor Chang, was the some type of metal mannequin. It was human shape, indicative that it was meant to be a display for whatever he was working on… or a place to hang his lab coat but that was unlikely when considering its height and width.

"How are the computers coming along, Morales?" He asked the Lab Tech, who was currently trying to attach some techy doo-dad into the computers hard drive. He'd never been god when it came to modern technologies, that had always been Barbara's thing. Computers and gymnastics, well, until that clown BASTARD paralyzed her.

There were few things James Gordon regretted in his life, and as much as he wanted too he couldn't come to regret letting Batman deal with him. It would have eaten him alive knowing that he'd allowed himself fall to that monster's level. But that didn't stop him from thanking the Dollmaker for finally dealing with the Joker.

"Not good. We won't be getting anything out of this with our tech. " \Morales responded taking a step away from the computer. "Hell, I don't think Wayne tech could crack this level of encryption."

James nodded his head and patted Morales on the shoulder. "See what you can get, I'll check and see if I can get the mayor to lean on Wayne a bit."

"Sure thing, Commish."

With that Morales went back to the computer and Gordon just stood there with a sinking feeling amassing in the pit of his stomach. Whatever was supposed to be on that rack was going to give him hell in the weeks to come, he was sure of it. He'd definitely needed to get in contact with Batman, to at least warn him

It felt like a godsend when Jim felt vibration coming from his flip phone. He pulled it out from his left chest pocket and put it to his ear without looking at the caller ID.

"This is commissioner Gordon." He greeted gruffly.

"Commissioner, it's Miller." The familiar voice of Tomas Miller, one of the SWAT members from the Thirteenth Precinct, he sounded exhausted but aware enough that he kept it in check. "Order has been restored in Arkham and the other half of the security footage has been forwarded to your terminal."

"Good job." He congratulated Miller sincerely. 'Anything else?"

"Actually, there is, sir." He mumbled out. "You remember those names you flagged, you know, incase there was ever any trouble?"

Gordon looked around, making sure that Morales wasn't paying attention to his call. "What about them?" James' voice grew steely.

'One of them came up…" He trailed on, as if unsure how to proceed. "It's not pretty, sir."

XxX

Frank hated the color orange just as much.

As such, it was fitting that most of his memories of Gather House had some orange tint to them and the people within them were shaded in blues. They were toxic nonsensical messes that hid truth behind symbolisms and monsters, but there was a period of darkness, where he could not see, just listen to the fiendish doctors who played with his body chat about the things they'd done to the others.

There was number Eight. He'd been in Gather House for three years before Frank had been dragged through those heavy wooden doors. They gloated about his screams as they enhanced his beauty for the purpose of Project Adonis. One of them complained that they'd gone too far with the surgeries and that now he looked repugnant to the human eye. Another groaned number Seventeen and how Project Atlas was costing them too many test subjects, Doctor Varma silenced him with a hiss as they entered the room.

"In a few moments we will see if Project Artemis had the desired effects." Her voice carried around Frank's ears like a siren's song. "Then we'll see just how he compares to subject Seventeen." It wasn't long before he felt ghouls begin to rip into his bandages. It felt like an eternity before they reached his eyes, blinding him with light.

'At Gather House, each one of our classrooms will be a garden where tomorrow blooms. '

'There she is.' Frank mentally sighed dejectedly. No memory of Gather House could be considered complete without Mother Patrick fucking words.

When the lights dimmed and Frank was able to see again he was assaulted by the snarling face of Seventeen roaring towards him in the standard Gather House white and black tracksuit. She had long black hair that was tied into a ponytail, and soulless black eyes, which were filled with burning rage, her calloused fists were balled and prepared to strike, yet Frank remained unmoving.

Seventeen was much faster than most of the others but to Frank she was moving at a snails pace but which would have been fine had he been moving faster at the same pace as his eyes perceived the events around him. As quickly as he could, so that she would miss her target by a margin but gave him an opening to strike the feminine juggernaut.

Gather House was not interested in the mastery of any one combat form, instead taking the efficiency and brutality from Krav Maga, Kali, English boxing, and Wing Chun or at least that what they focused on teaching him...

Her powerful fist grazed his left cheek but his own connected to her throat. Then, while Seventeen's hands flew to clutch her own throat, Frank slammed his leg against the side of her head, knocking her down. As she fell to the floor he used the momentum of his kick to deliver another devastating blow. Seventeen's head crashed into the stone floor of the training field.

Every part of Frank's mind wanted to kneel down and snap the dark haired girl's neck but he wasn't sure if it was out of mercy or his absolute loathing for someone who mindlessly killed. No one would blame him for it… Seventeen had been in Gather House longer than any of them and rumor had it that she'd killed her father before being sent to this hell.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mother Patrick observing the demonstration with arms crossed and a soft smile on her face. She nodded her head ever so slightly and he attempted to do what was expected of him. the next thing he knew Frank was crouched over Seventeen's downed form with one hand wrapped below her chin and the other bracing her body for the finishing jerk.

His muscles tensed but he was stopped when Doctor Varma and her cronies made their way onto the field.

"Eleven." She said in her usual apathetic voice. "Release Seventeen and return to your quarters."

"Send her to the Hole." Mother Patrick chimed from her place. "We cannot condone failure."

For some reason Frank couldn't move if he wanted to he was stuck holding his opponent as Varma mouthed her orders time and time again.

"Eleven!"

"Eleven!"

"Eleven!"

"Eleven!"

"Eleven!"

"Eleven!"

"Frank!"

XxX

"Frank!"

Frank's eyes flew open as he was jolted awake by his name being called. His skin was cold and damp, his heart was pounding in his chest, and he had a very nasty headache. His eyes struggled to focus on the face of the under the mass of blue hair. For half a second, he thought the figure in front of was Cullen, but the voice didn't fit.

The voice was decidedly more feminine than Cullen usually was, unless he was doing his Harper impression… that train of thought immediately led him to recognize his long time best friend. He would have been excused for such a mistake due to the mess that those bastards had left his friend's hair.

That and they were nearly identical twins.

"What?" He asked in a horse voice his hand reaching for the glass of water he usually kept on the nightstand. It took him a few swipes he finally took note of his surroundings, he wasn't on his firm bed like he'd originally thought instead he was resting on the greenish brown couch his brother had purchased when they'd moved into the Narrows.

Harper seemed to study him for moment before shaking her head. She looked exhausted, a conclusion that Frank came to due to the noticeable amount of eye bags and her slightly slumped posture, this was either due to Frank's incessant pacing as he waited for Joe to return from his shift at the hospital or the primal fear that her brother was in danger.

it was most likely the latter but he couldn't help that childish warmth that in some shape or form Harper was genuinely worried about him. So, Frank hid his smile behind hand the palm of his hand as it ascended to his forehead, as he did every time he woke up.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare." She explained absently. "I thought, I should wake you up…" Harper trailed off, her eyes were distant as if her mind was truly somewhere far off. It was particularly rare to see Harper slipping away into her thoughts. From Frank 's perspective, Harper mind seemed to flow so naturally that she never seemed to be off her feet. She was a savant when it came to electronics and she was closer to earth than Frank himself was, which was saying something.

Frank's brows furrowed slightly as he stood but he remained silent, instead choosing to walk away and check if Joe had gotten home safe. His first few steps were a bit wobbly, which was understandable considering the location and odd position he slept in. It was slow process letting his body wake and by the time he'd reached his brother's room he could properly feel half of his legs and it wasn't the half that aided his balance.

He didn't bother knocking, he just flung the door open and stepped in. The blinders were up, letting the sunlight flood into what was usually darkened because his sibling needed his sleep. The bed was still made, exactly as it had been the night before.

There was a moment when that same crushing fear that had gripped him the day before resurged with a vengeance. His legs felt so weak that Frank had to grip the wooden doorframe to stop him from collapsing. He knew he was overreacting, how could he not? Someone almost killed him, and for all he knew they'd gone after his brother too.

His distress was not lost to Harper, but she did misinterpret the reason for it. Frank had never wanted to burden his friends with his experiences in Gather House, yet it was not for the sake of their benefit but his. He didn't want them to realize just how toxic his presence within their lives really was. There was nothing within Gather House that the Subjects were in control of, not when they ate, not when they could sleep, and certainly not what was taken away from them. Relationships between subjects were violently discouraged and no one seemed to be around him long enough for them to bond before something went wrong. Everyone forgot about them as soon they were put in Mother Patrick's care, except for Joe. He fought to get him back for years, and after three years Frank was free.

But Harper wasn't aware of this information and thus could be excused for thinking that Frank was worried about Joe because of what happened to Cullen. Even in the Narrows, it wasn't everyday that someone had the balls to break into a house and assault the owner, not since Batman had taken the Riddler down during the Zero Year.

"You should check your phone." She said from her spot near the couch. She softly smiled as Frank bolted from his brother's room to his own. Harper was putting on a brave face, he knew it and she knew he did. Out of all of them Harper was the most level headed of the bunch, she tried to keep everyone calm and rarely did she ever fly off the handle. "He probably picked up another shift at the hospital."

Frank rummaged though his bullet hole addled backpack, pulled out the home made phone from its pouch, and retrieved the remains his headphones and cd player. The phone was something of a collaboration of Harper's tech wizardry and Frank's own engineering prowess. It wasn't sleek as the newer WayneTech models but it was twice as powerful, It was about four point five inches long, two inches wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It was built from pieces of older discarded smartphones Harper, Cullen and him had retrieved from dumpsters in Gotham Heights. It was blocky but with Cullen's artistic touch even Frank had to admit it looked good. Joe called it and it copies Frankenphones…

Joe wasn't the best at jokes.

Agitated, Frank activated his phone by placing his right thumb onto the center of the screen, it lit up blue for a minute until it finished synching with Wayne tech signal carriers. Once that was done the phone vibrated thirteen times, indicating the number of new messages he received. Three were from Cullen asking about how things were going with his interview, seven were pictures from Harper in the vibrant red dress she'd worn for the gala, one was a video from an unknown number, which he ignored, and two were from Joe.

YESTERDAY, 6:42pm: Extra shifts, short handed, cause of upcoming storm. Won't be back for a few days. Love ya, be safe.

YESTERDAY, 6:50pm: Stock up fridge. Use my card.

Oh, there it was, the text that brought would have brought this whole situation to close without some kind of miniature heart attack. He pocketed the phone and turned to walk out of the only to be met by a blue haired Harper. Looking at him with that same blank look he'd seen earlier. "You were right, Joe is still working."

"Told you." She said with an easy going smile when she caught him staring at her face. "What's for breakfast? I'm hella hungry."

"Didn't you bring food from the party?"

"Oh. That's gone." Her eyes darted to the right, towards rusted lamp on my workbench. "I gave it all Cullen for his club thing." Frank eyebrow rose and he held her gaze. After half a minute of this Harper wavered. "Maybe three fourths…" That being said, Frank lifted his hand and began to slowly twist it as if trying to release a ridiculously tight screw. "What are you doing?" Frank refused to answer her, instead choosing to continue his little joke. "Seriously."

"I'm trying to see if I can rewind time, Chloe." He finally responded. His face betrayed no real emotion but his eyes were filled with amusement. It took half a minute for the joke to register, another half for her to understand it, and one quarter of a second for Harper to nail his shoulder with a punch.

"Just make me something to eat."

"Whatever you say," He stood up waited a beat and chuckled out. "Ramona." There was a brief scramble where Frank darted past a flushed Harper, who to her own credit did laugh at the pop culture reference before giving chase.

XxX

Lex Luthor was not happy.

He hired Black Mask to do one thing and the man delivered something else completely, he was supposed to kill Frank Lawton but instead he organizes a riot at Arkham Asylum and shoots up a restaurant. He groaned at the imbecile's sheer incompetence!

"I should have called Ra's." He said aloud as he massaged his temples. He'd missed his window, he could have been rid of Lawton quickly and cleanly if he'd sucked up his pride and contacted his associate. Ra's would have sent an assassin and killed the boy without anyone being the wiser. Now, he couldn't send another after him because it would bring undesired attention to him.

Chang could have been useful had he been given a chance. He could have used for a new line of defense against the rising metahuman threat, his practical knowledge of the application of Xenotium had been invaluable prior to his death but now the world was deprive of a brilliant mind. Not nearly as brilliant as his own but still brilliant enough that his death set Lex back longer than he'd originally anticipated.

"I can still call Ra's." He still could, he would do it for two very important reasons. The first was simple: he needed to tie up loose ends; the second was even simpler: it would send a message to Roman, make him understand that when Lex Luthor paid you to do something, you did it.

A wicked smile broke his stoic visage. "Yes, that will do nicely.' He told himself as reached for his personal phone and dialed Mercy.

"Good afternoon, Mister Luthor." She greeted robotically. "How may I be of service today?"

"Put me in contact with Henri Ducard." It was an alias that Ra's had told him to use after the true Henri Duard's death years ago.

"Right away, Mister Luthor."

XxX

It wasn't long after finishing their small brunch that the two friends went their separate ways. Harper was going to hit the Grid around the Narrows, to limit the damage it was going to take when the storm hit, Cullen was going to be in club till late in the evening, so they had plenty of time, and Frank was left alone to his own devices.

As soon as he heard the rust bucket come alive from his spot next to the window, he began to pull the black armor/suit from beneath his bed and quickly deposited it on his workbench. He didn't need to take it apart, he just needed to see the circuits to get an idea about capabilities this thing brought to the table. The exo skeleton was composed of some kind of nano-carbon, which if Frank's dad drilled in one thing into his skull while he was in Jump city was that nano-carbon could take a shit ton of punishment. Hell, you probably needed diamond tipped bullets to pierce the outer shell.

He started with its head. The helmet had an HD Retinal display, which explained why it looked like he wasn't wearing a helmet that encased the entirety of his head. The back of the helmet was connected to the suit via some form of spinal structure that ran the length of the suit to the base of the torso, best guess it was some kind of spinal link that provided both energy from the Xenothium core to the rest of the suit and transmit information to the HUD. Oh, and there was some kind of communicator where the ears were.

The arms had one hand cannon each, which also connected to the utility belt. There were large X shaped ports, Iron Man style, where he guessed energy was projected out into concentrated Xenothium beams. There were small pads that were directly connected the cannon's which would lead him to believe that they served as a tazer should someone get too close. There were a few indicators that the suit could greatly augment his strength and that it had full tactile response.

He already knew about the teleporter in the utility belt, so he skipped that and moved on directly onto the legs. There wasn't much there that wasn't in the arms, with exception of the cannons that were completely absent.

Now that he'd literally scratched the surface of the suit all he had to figure out how any of it worked, which meant he needed to find a place to test it, which wasn't that hard when you lived in a city that was partially abandoned, all one had to do was look…

But he didn't need to.

He already had a place in mind. There was a cave near the lower eastside of the Narrows, beneath the sewers. It was a cave that his mother had taken him on his tenth birthday as type of right of passage. It was maze of rock and darkness, but it was sacred to her mother's people and in extension it was important to him.

They were people of the Bat, they had lived in the deep and dark places until they were made to forget. Children were stripped of their names and culture, their parent's blood was moistened the ground and in his mother's words: "the Owls built their nests."

As far as Frank knew there weren't any others with the Miagani heritage that rembered the cave except for his brother but he never came into the cave, he was claustrophobic, and honestly he didn't know anyone else who shared their mother's bloodline.

She didn't like to talk about her side of the family.

The cave was easy to navigate once Frank allowed himself to be guided by the sounds of the earth. He spent an hour wandering through the dark until he came to a large open space with a phosphorescent ceiling. There were large mammalian bones encrusted into the rock. It was quiet, so quiet that he could hear the water moving between the rocks.

He put on the black uniform as quickly as he was able., which took longer than he expected with all the clips and that stuck the suit to his skin. It took him four minutes to put it on, but as soon as he place the helmet he felt the suit activate and a slight tingle across erupt across his skin.

"Now let's see what this thing can do." Frank said as he opened his palms and aimed them at the far wall. Nothing happened, which was unsurprising but he had to give it a shot. Next he would try to thrust back his arms in a wide ark and this time three red x shaped throwing stars materialized between his fingers. He quickly threw them at stationary stalagmite.

"So, you activate depending of the motion I move my arms…" Frank noted, he put his hands together like he'd seen in an old anime with Cullen. There was spark of energy between his hands that quickly developed into a ball of energy. He then slowly separated his hands and the ball split into two. "Okay, easy Frank, take it nice and slow."

He balanced the balls of energy around him this lasted for about thirty seconds because the energy began to flicker. So, Frank thrust out his arms, releasing the energy in two concentrated crimson beams of energy towards the same stalagmite he had previously thrown the red xs. The beam reflected of the rock surface and surged upwards like a lightning bolt.

Frank watched frozen as the energy struck the glowing ceiling causing an explosion that rocked the cavern. Frank didn't need enhanced sense to know he needed to make a quick exit or he'd risk dying in the cave of 'Origin'. Frank hands scrambled onto his belt and began fiddle as the rocks began to descend. Like before he pressed every single pouch until his fingers fell onto the X on its buckle.

Just like before he barely noticed that he'd teleported, he didn't realize it but he was going deeper into the underground.

XxX

The original Wayne Tower was built in eighteen eighty eight on Miagani Island, under the watch of Burce's great great grandfather, Alan Wayne. He built the tower to serves as a symbol of welcome to the people coming to Gotham. It was designed to give visitors to the once great city a feeling that they were being cared for and protected. It was protected by twelve guardian gargoyles to watch over the original entrances into the city: there were five guardians on the first tier: the three bridges and two tunnels and Higher up the tower there were seven guardians protecting each of the seven train lines that converged under Wayne Tower at Union Station.

At the top was the observatory deck, which Alan Wayne insisted remain free and open to the public every weekend. For the windows, he insisted that only the best glass to be used, a type of double bonded laminated float glass designed to be crystal quality, waterproof and more importantly unbreakable.

This was not the case for Bruce Wayne, who had just been kicked through this supposedly shatter proof glass by an assassin dressed like an owl in black. As he bled and fell from the monument that represented everything his family stood for. He could barely move as the silver metal daggers seemed to tunnel deeper into brachial arteries making it impossible to latch onto anything.

In his head he heard the chilling voice of his would be assassin "Bruce Wayne. The Court of Owls has sentenced you to die." That was the last thing he heard before he was kicked.

The 'Talon' jumped out right after him.

Bruce had to admit that the man was dedicated, Bruce had to admit to himself as his claws dug into the sides of his chest. The last of the Waynes struggled against the superior foe, a stray fist smashed into the ' Talon's' right eye which caused him to chuckle mirthfully at Bruce's pitiful attempt at defending himself.

"I love killing Waynes!" Those were the words that triggered something unlike that Bruce tried to control every time he put on that his cowl. He punched the bastard harder than he had ever done the Joker. He struck and grappled with his enemy with all his untapped rage until he was above him and the 'Talon' spread its wings but by then it was too late.

Bruce had used the opportunity to grab onto the secret thirteenth Guardian installed by Henry Wayne, Alan Wayne's son. No one mentions it because it was installed nearly fifty years later and it cant be seen by the elevators or the deck.

It was to protect the visitors who arrived from the air.

Bruce watched silently as his would be Assassin plummeted to his death, crashing into his own red Ferrari.

Whoever had just tried to kill him made one serious mistake.

They had tried to use Gotham's legends against him but they hadn't realized that Batman was the only legend Gotham would ever need.

It knew him unlike anyone else; like he knew her.

That was the reason that he didn't believe that he was being targeted by the Court of Owls, they simply did not exist.

Not in Gotham.

Not in his city.

Little did he know that some legends wouldn't die just because of one unbeliever.

XxX

Frank spent nearly three hours in the Underground searching for an entrance into the Grid, and once he did manage by following the flow of water it took him another half hour to reach the surface, By then the sun was already setting and clouds had began to amass over the Narrows. The storm was going to hit hard and he'd spent far too long wandering about, if there were any good in the world Amelia's market was still open.

As such he didn't have time to remove the suit so he kept on instead choosing to cover it up with his hoodie and sweat pants that he had worn before putting on the power suit. Frank took off the helmet and stuffed it into his bag and pulled up his hood. It was dark, cold, and wet enough that no one would question his choice of apparel. Besides when was the last time anyone in Gotham paid attention to the people around them. He'd emerged somewhere between his apartment and the Amelia's Market, so he was in luck.

So, he began walking towards the market at a brisk pace.

He eventually arrived at the market with the faded sign that read CiCi's in faded yellow, bold letters. Amelia was attempting to pull down the last shutters. The overweight woman was dressed in a pink dress he remembered her referring to as a "Moo Moo".

"Closing up so soon Misses Robbins?" The dark skinned woman nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard his voice.

"Frank!" She exclaimed, with her usually kind voice. "I didn't see you there. You really shouldn't be walking around with a storm coming!"

"I know Misses Robbins." He said in the same tone he used to appease adults who had somehow come to the conclusion that he was in the wrong. "But I really need to buy somethings for the apartment." Frank could see that she was having a rather heated debate as to if she should open for a few more minutes or say no and save herself the hassle. So Frank diced to play things a bit dirty and play o her weak spot: the Row Twins. "With how busy Harper and I've been we haven't had the chance to stock up on essentials, and with Cullen at school all the time and Joe working at all hours of the day…" And just like that Amelia Robbins was opening up her store.

"Just… hurry up now Frank, I've got a real bad feeling about this storm and there's no way I'm gonna be caught in it."

"Thank you, Misses Robbins." Frank said as he darted beneath the reopened door and ducked into the store to purchase twelve cans of canned foods and four gallons of water. Enough for three people, for two days.

Once done, he paying he helped his landlord close up shop and began his trek back home. The street were empty, with most people leaving the city the day before and the bad weather warning the rest to stay indoors.

Four minutes of walking later had Frank turning the corner and spotting none other than Police Commissioner James Gordon leaning on a copper collared car chewing on a toothpick with a hard look and sad eyes. His hair was still as red as Frank remembered it being but it seemed to have lost its shine. Gordon spotted him out of the corner of his left eye and turned to him with a grave expression on his face.

"Franklin Lawton?" He asked with his gruff voice. There wasn't a reason to ask, Frank already knew that he'd been recognized

"How can I help you, Offi- I mean- Commissioner Gordon? Sorry, you know I grew up knowing you as Officer Gordon or Babs dad… its weird calling you anything else." Frank said freezing up and rambling for good measure. Gather House had taught him that people were less on guard when he rambled and that was usually to his advantage.

Gordon gave him what appeared to be an attempt towards a comforting smile but it just fell short. "I've got some bad news, son." Instantly Frank was transported to the hours following the crash that had robbed him of his parent and eventually his child hood. The Office that had broken the news to him had said the exact same words and it sparked fear in him.

'We're growing Gotham's future, strong and true, to build a better world for you and me.'

He wondered if it was about Harper, the Grid could be really dangerous I some of the older parts and she knew better than to go in alone but the possibility was still there. What if it had been Cullen? Harper would be devastated if anything happened to him… frank doubted that she could keep it together if anything were to have happened to him. Maybe it was Violet… Shit, he hoped not she was his only friend from those bad old days… and it couldn't be-

"Your brother, Joe, was attacked last night." Gordon said softly, placing a strong hand on Frank's shaking armored shoulder.

"At Gather House, each one will be remade so they can save the city long decayed."

"How?" Frank demanded without missing a beat. "He was staying at the hospital!"

"Calm down." He ordered Gordon sighed using his nose. "No, he wasn't. Arkham was short staffed and they asked for volunteers, your brother signed up and was shipped over. There was riot, and one of the inmates locked him and another nurse in the kitchen. He's stable but he's hurt, son."

"Who did it? I need to know…" He said trailing off , trying to find the words that would get him the answers he needed. "…what they did to Joe."

"Look." Gordon said sternly but at the same time still trying. "Your brother's safe and he's alive. The bridges are closed due to the storm but I can get you there to see him. I do not believe for a second that Joe Lawton would want you running around looking for-." The car radio came to life and the deep gruff sounding voice with a New Jersey accent exploded from the car's radio.

"Hey, Jim, can't find any leads on Sionis," Gordon's eyes widened in fear for a split second, but it was long enough for Frank to catch it. "but we've got another problem on our hands. You know that message the John Doe left. You know the one I thought was crazy, well, it happened. Some freak in a costume just took a shot at Wayne. Need you at Union Station ASAP." With that said the radio died leaving a rather awkward silence between the two men.

"I'm sorry." Gordon said as he pulled a white card from his coat, handed it to Frank, and he took a step toward his car "If you need anything, please, give me a call."

Frank stood there, stark still as commissioner Gordon drove away. The weight of the supplies he had just purchased were forgotten for the better part of five minutes that was until a few droplets of rain seeped through his hoody and dampened his hair.

The next ten minute were a blur of motion as he somehow made it back into the apartment, put away the food, and found himself in his brother's spartanesc room sitting in front of his computer. His fingers automatically moved across the keyboard, loging him onto his secure email provided by an old ally.

From: Longshot

To: Panic

SUBJECT: Help.

Need a live feed from the intensive care unit at Arkham Asylum and Joe Lawton's medical records. ASAP.

SEND? Y/N

A full six minutes passed beforepassed before he got a response from his associate.

From: Panic

To: Longshot

SUBJECT: RE:Help.

Had the Doc skim over the medical file. She says he'll recover but there will be scarring on his face. The link to the footage will give you six minutes of live feed before it's shut down.

Use it wisely.

Any news on Hemsley?

RESPOND? Y/N

From: Longshot

To: Panic

SUBJECT: RE: RE:Help.

No change. He'll most likely be here till winter sets in…

Chang is dead and the GCPD raided his lab, any hope of getting more of his tech is slim.

SEND? Y/N

It wouldn't affect his ally much but it did affect at least one of her plans, but it did affect him. Depending on Joe's injuries Frank was going to need some serious cash to keep things afloat. He wasn't going to stoop as low as to ask for job, but he wouldn't say no if she offered.

From: Panic

To: Longshot

SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE:Help.

Fuck.

Expect me in the next month or so. You'll know I'll be in Gotham when the Gazette has a heart attack. Maybe you can bring your girl with you.

RESPOND? Y/N

Frank clicked the N and moved to his brother's medical records. There were pictures of the injuries, laceration on his wrists were he was bound; a mirriad of bruises along the side of his ribs; imprint of some kind of sneaker on his back; burns on his hands; and worse of all was his face. There wasn't any skin left on it only bleeding muscle and exposed cartilage,

And that was what he could see on the surface, the document went on to list all the things wrong with Joe internally and that didn't even mentioned the trauma mental trauma he suffered at the hands of those maniacs.

The name of his brother's assailant was omitted by one Doctor Jeremiah Arkham. Frank, seeing that there wasn't much to learn from the file switched to the live feed. There he saw two men in in white lab coats and blue scrubs standing next to a man resting on a bed, with his face covered in bandages.

"I can't believe Roman actually did this…" The man on the right told his colleague. "He always seemed more collected than the rest of the common rabble."

"Are you kidding?" The other one hissed in disbelief. "Sionis has sadistic streak as long as the Joker! His dad was a corporate psychopath, what the hell were you expecting!?"

The first man that had talked raised his hands in a way that symbolized surrender "I'm not saying the guy wasn't an evil bastard, I'm just saying he was nutcaser like Dollmsaker."

"Poor kid."

"Yeah, heard he has a brother, no idea how they're gonna break the news to him…"

With that Frank cut the feed and leaned back on the chair and he honest to goodness growled. Why was Black Mask and his crew gunning for him? Hell, it didn't really matter as much considering they were and they'd already hurt his brother…

And he was going to make 'em pay.

XxX

The Moffat Building's top floor was by far the most exclusive club in Old Gotham. It was designed with sin and extravagance in mind, it was also the safest place for high-rollers to unwind after a long day. So, it was pretty much the perfect place for Sweeny to wait out a storm.

For the first time in a long time, Malcolm 'Mad-Eye' Sweeny felt like things were going right for him and his crew. Hell, he was happy enough that he didn't mid that a small fish like Bone was getting a lap dance not forty-three feet away from him. He was dressed in his usual white suit accompanied by two of the finest men he'd ever trained and the small, lithe girl pressed against his groin was helping the mood grow, if one knew what he meant.

Things were going swell on the top floor of the Moffat building that was until, like all good things in Gotham, the merriment came to an abrupt and sudden end. Sweeny had laughed when he saw Catwoman drag Bone out of the club by the scruff of his neck after beating his guards senseless but it was the appearance of someone new not long after robbed Sweeny of his happy vibe

The figure was clad in almost entirely in black except for two red xs, one on his forehead and one on his chest, and some kind of white skull decal on the face. The newcomer stated his violent intention when he blasted his men with crimson beams of scorching energy. Malcolm pulled out the Uzi hidden on his waste and unloaded on the bastard.

Sweeny's eyes widened as the man weaved through the hail of bullets like something out of a sci-fi movie. The next thing he knew the wraith was atop of him, and before Sweeny could do anything his mask was shattered by the force of its punch. The next hit lifted Sweeny off his large ass sending him tumbling into the dance floor below.

He slammed against the glass floor on his arm, it dislocated upon impact. The air was knocked out of him and then he was kicked the stomach making his dinner rise up and meet the world once again. He wanted to fight back but his one good eye couldn't focus on anything. He felt two hands wrapping around his good arm and tug up pup it out of place.

Malcolm screamed like he'd never done before but he kept his eye open. His father had taught him to never look away from an opponent and no matter how much pain he was in he would do just that. Sweeney was met with soulless white staring unblinkingly at him and for the first time since he'd beaten his father to death he felt something akin to true fear.

This wasn't Batman. He wasn't there to put him in jail or bring him before a judge for his crime, this man was fully intent on sending him to hell.

"Where's Black Mask?" The reaper asked kicking his shoulder. When he didn't respond Malcolm felt three sharp objects dig into his leg. "I won't ask again."

Before he could tell him where to stick his threat, he caught a glimpse of a smiling cat above him aiming a small red crossbow aimed right at him.

He smiled cause he knew, that the only good thing they could say about him was that he wasn't a snitch… his world went black soon after.

XxX

Sweeny was dead and so were any chances of Frank finding Black Mask. It wasn't hard to find Black Mask's enforcer, he always wore his mask and white suit and he was famous enough in old Gotham that people knew where he was to avoid being near the brute, but loosing him just as he was about to get an answer was particularly infuriating.

But it was less so than the smiling cat masked assassin that was perched on the platform above looking at him with curiosity. She dressed in sort of short green kimono type getup and had long wild black hair that seemed to rise up like a black mane.

Frank was pissed and in uncharacteristic move he let the new threat know that she had made his shitlist. "Your ass is MINE!"'

The assassin couldn't help but begin to chuckle "So territorial." She practically purred, as she holstered her crossbow and drew two sai. "And it's only our first date, hope it's not your last."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: and here's chapter two of Once Upon a Time in Gotham. The comic events in this chapter are Catwoman #3 and Batman #1 & 2\. I settled on a Cheshire closer to the Cheshire from the Young Justice cartoon because out of all I've seen, she is by far the most enjoyable.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way here are the votes so far:
> 
> Raven - 4
> 
> Bluebird - 2
> 
> Cheshire - 1
> 
> As always be sure to check out my other works and be sure to leave a comment.


	3. Chapter 3

"There's something inside me  
That pulls beneath the surface  
Consuming, confusing  
This lack of self control I fear  
Is never ending, controlling."

-Crawling. Linkin Park

XxX

Frank, by nature, had always been a black hat.

Gun-ho, shoot-first-ask-questions later type of guy and it served him well in the environment he'd been raised in. Gotham was dog-eat-dog no matter where one was or spoon type of spoon one was born with, if one couldn't stand up for themselves they wouldn't live long enough to enjoy their supper. His father saw it in him when he was born, that was why he'd chosen that name him. Frank was the name of the main antagonist of an old spaghetti-western he used to watch, it was Fonda's first time playing the villain and it had taken the world by storm when it was first released onto the silver screen.

Frank didn't know if Gather House saw that same monster in him or if it was the close relation to the world's second greatest assassin that prompted them to commit experiments on him and, pardon the pun, he frankly didn't care. Not when there was an assassin dressed in a sinfully short kimono and a creepy grinning catmask to deal with.

Thanks to those experiments he was an excellent marksman, training made him good strategist, and a decent fighter. He was lethal at any range if he could just keep his head, which in his current state was an impossibility. Black Mask had driven him to the absolute edge, the assassin in accomplishing her mission had tipped him off into what the scientist that had worked on him referred to as the "New Moon phase." He wasn't particularly sure what it meant but he had a pretty good idea that it had something to do with his... temper.

The why, eluded him, but the over all effect was that it made him a sloppy brawler, which was great against untrained groups but horrible against a highly trained individuals. He wouldn't have cared if she were his only opponent for the night, but he had plans of taking care of Sionis before he could harm someone else he cared about. Improbable, but one always needed to maintain some semblance of hope.

Words to live by… even if they were just words that Mother Patrick would tell parents as they sold their children to the devil in white. He didn't care there was truth in that monster's lies.

None the less, he fought himself for some semblance of control.

The grinning assassin was crouched over the upper balcony where Frank had moments ago thrown Black Mask's enforcer from. Was he ticked that she had killed Sweeney? Honesty? No. Frank was going to let fate decide if he was going to bleed out on the clubs dance floor, but that was only after he'd given him Black Mask's location… which was an impossibility now that he had a bolt wedged between his eyes.

Sweeney had been his only lead, the other's had taken to ground once their boss interned himself at Arkham and Penguin had set his sights on the last bastion of the Roman's territory. Frank hadn't been in Gotham for that… his parents had moved out days before the event that would be known as the Zero Year took place. With Black Mask still in play, the skull faced monster was free to attack Cullen. Harper, and even finish off Joe if he so felt like it.

Now, that was a reason to get angry about.

It was something real.

Something the scientist Gather House could never replicate or influence. His rage may not have been his to control but his anger, his instinct, his heart were his. With that in mind, he shot up into the air fully intent on taking out his anger on the assassin. "I'm really digging the no cape look." She said in rather conversational tone.

Bystanders stood stark still watching with wrapped attention as Frank moved like a shadow through the air. They were either in shock of the brutal end to an infamous killer or were hoping that they would be the first to capture the images of Gotham's newest Mask. Frank observed as the muscles in her legs coiled, readying them to move at the last possible second

"What? No foreplay? No wonder they say chivalry is dead. " She mocked as she easily dodged his charge with a jump. It was as he had expected, needles to say he was prepared for when it happened. Seamlessly he drew his arms back, forcing the X shaped stars to materialize in both hands. Three in each, and as he stumbled onto the corpses of the Sweeny's guards he threw one hand at the still descending killer.

Frank estimated that two of they would dig into her right leg and the third would graze her hip. It wouldn't have been lethal, but it would hurt which, for the moment, was all that mattered. It would be impossible for her to dodge, unless she had a-

Before his very eyes Frank watched her fade away until she was just a green specter and then nothing. He was unprepared for when those powerful, bare legs suddenly wrapped themselves around his neck or the sudden shift in gravity when she used them to fling him out the very same hole he had just jumped through. He had barely passed the shattered mirrors when he realized that the assassin could teleport. "I come and go very strangely ."

Half as second later he threw anther handful of throwing stars at her knowing full well the act wouldn't do any damage but it would distract her from his other hand as it drifted to wards the x on his belt.

He teleported behind her and used the momentum of his fall to strike at her head. instead he managed to knock the grinning mask right off her face. It was then and there that Frank noticed a shift in her demeanor, it wasn't angry nor was it wild, it was as if she were finally taking him seriously. "Oh, you just might get that second date."

She had pretty eyes, Frank noted at first glance but upon further inspection, he noticed that she was a rather beautiful. Frank saw beauty in some of the worlds most dangerous predators, as such he was not disarmed by it. She struck with the speed and precision of a Talon but that didn't matter when he knew where she was going to strike.

He caught her wrist and squeezed forcing her to release the sai she was holding in her right hand. She followed through by slamming into his chest, knocking him off balance, and swiping his feet from under him with one solid kick. Before he hit the floor he teleported away.

He appeared in the other private room, where Catwoman had taken that low level gangster from, which meant that there was an escape route, if things didn't pan out. With an exit strategy in place, Frank ducked just in time to dodge a swipe aimed the junction between the miniscule space between where his helmet connected to the main chassis.

"You're fast." He commented striking at her guard. There wasn't much space to maneuver around which made things easier to engage the assassin.

"So are you." She purred, drawing her face closer. "but do you have stamina to keep up?" The very next thing he knew, Frank was being kicked down the steps leading down to the common area. The suit worked as buffer against the blows of the steps. By the time he reached the bottom he was scrambling away from a rapidly descending assassin, who in the span of a few seconds had ditched her sai in favor of a medium length sword.

Where had she kept it? Frank didn't know. He was sure she wasn't carrying anything of the size when they were fighting. There want much he could do against the sword, he couldn't risk it being sharp enough to actually damage the suit, and if it was he didn't want to risk being poisoned by the toxins that undoubtedly coated in.

With little else to do but evade and wait for an opportunity to strike, the on lookers were treated to a fascinating game of cat and mouse. The speakers were blasting a remixed version of Foxglove's original album. If Frank wasn't mistaken the song used to be Donna's Dream, the gentle melodies of Foxglove's signature acoustic guitar were replaced with random synthetic noises… his mother used to love that song. In fact every time she'd play it she used to talk about this guy she'd met at a party in New York a few years before she'd met his dad, and apperantly saved his life. It was Foxglove's first concert and she had died her hair a vibrant red… and it was the first time she had ever told her life story to someone else... something she never got to do with Frank.

Joe would tell him after getting custody back.

It was the reason that reason that his mother used to wear elbow length gloves all the time. Frank had assumed that she was hiding chemical burns but the truth was much more horrific. He didn't care though. She was his mother and no matter what had happened to her or whatever stories he heard, she would always be the strongest woman in the world to him.

…He could still hear her voice singing along those morbid yet beautiful words...

"Wonder what you're doing tonight,

in my cold place underneath the world

I don't breath or sleep

I cant even spit or weep

But I still love you girl."

Frank was so absorbed with the memory that he failed to notice that he had fallen into a pattern. Duck to the right, shift weight with the movement to keep the assassin's guard up, dodge to the left, while taking a step back. The killer in green noticed this and played along until she was sure that he had lulled himself into a false sense of security and then she struck.

When he made to duck to the right she spun around and slashed horizontally instead of vertically. He reacted quicker than the expected but instead fleeing Frank mode in closer with angry red beams of energy emanating from his hands.

The beams shot out faster than she could teleport away. Frank watched the assassin spasm violently and after the energy dissipated she collapsed.

He didn't bother to check if she was alive. She was either dead or unconscious and in pain, which pretty much meant she was no longer his problem. That being said he did pick up her sword. He didn't know how to use it but chances were he could learn a thing or two about how she kept it hidden in such a… revealing outfit.

People were cheering, too stupid to realize that he hadn't even sparred a thought about them during the entire fight. Frank walked over to sweeney's corpse and began rummaging through his pockets for any clues towards Black Mask's location.

What he got three thick stacks of cash about a hundred bills each, a cheap burner anyone could buy at a corner store, and a Wayne tech series four smart phone, older model better security.

Panic had the resources to recover the smartphone's GPS data, and if she were feeling charitable she would do it for free… Violet, or Panic as she preferred to be called, rarely did anything for free and even if she did it would take days for her unencrypt it. It was time he honestly didn't have, but he would make the most of it.

He sighed heavily, an action which the voice changer made sound more like a scoff. His hand drifted towards toward his belt, but before he could press the button and teleport away he was tackled. It lacked the force to knock him over but it was enough that Frank realized someone had jumped on him. Powerful legs wrapped themselves around his torso, and hands around his helmet.

For a second he froze. He had killed other subjects like this. A quick twist of the neck, painless and merciful. He wasn't sure if the suit had counter measures for that or if those were going to be the last few precious seconds on earth. He closes his eyes readying himself for the words of Gather house to ring out but instead of hearing Mother Patrick's voice Frank heard his mother singing along that beautifully morbid song.

"I wrote you a letter girl,

On the day I checked out

Said I hurt you cos' I loved you.

Was I wrong?

And the seasons turn and the year go by

But the dark continues on.

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you,

In the morning I'll be gone

And I wonder what your doing tonight."

Frank opens his eyes to find himself on the roof of a building two miles away from the Moffat building with a heavy rain pelting his face.

His face…

His face…

Rain was hitting his face.

"Now were even." The assassin purred in a husky voice from right across from him. Frank opened his eyes just as she threw his helmet back at him. She was grinning like a mad woman and stood as if he'd never hit her with the beams. "So, who are you?"

"Red X." The name came out before he could stop himself. It was unoriginal, stupid, and- why was he getting flustered? It was just a name, it wasn't like it would catch on.

"Catchy." She replied as she walked to the edge of the building. "You owe me a second date, Red, maybe if you impress me again I might just keep you." Frank was placed his helmet back in place, but before he could respond the assassin was already fading away. "And like the Cheshire Cat I disappear."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." He muttered to to an empty roof, his voice was drowned out by howling winds and the roar of rain. There weren't any police blimps in the sky which spoke volumes of the severity of the storm… Harper was going to kill him and if she didn't Cullen would sure as hell take a swing at it. Frank pulled out the phone he'd lifted off Sweeney's corpse and studied the casing,

He needed to get back before the storm got any worse.

XxX

Cullen Row quickly into the hot shower in the Lawton's apartment eager to wash off the last two days. It wasn't enough that those bastards had broken into his home, beat, and humiliated him, they just had to go after Harper too. They were lucky that Batman had swooped in and put some fear into them because he shuddered to think what they would do to them with those knives.

His bruises stung like hell under the scolding water, but he kept himself under showerhead. Harper had always been the stronger of the twins. She would always defend him, even against their father when he came home after a night of drinking. She was braver too, rising to whatever challenge Gotham threw at them, but there lay the problem:

Harper wasn't Frank.

People were scared of Frank.

Row didn't carry any weight compared to the name Lawton. Lawton's had helped build the city through their stonework, the first police commissioner in Gotham was a Lawton, not to mention that one of the world's deadliest assassins was a Lawton himself. There was a reputation behind the name, one that often time he'd backed up with his fists.

That was another thing, Frank never threw the first punch but he always threw the last... Frank didn't hesitate to engage and often times Harper tried to emulate that.

One day she was going to meet someone who wouldn't back down… and what would he do then? He froze when they beat him, he froze when they went after Harper who had come back from reinforcing the Grid. The only reason they cut through the alley was because his Journalism Club was being visited by Vicky Vale, a reporter for the Gotham Gazette. He froze but Harper acted with no thought for her own safety.

Tazer in hand, she had threatened his bullies and defended while all Cullen had done was try to dissuade her from her actions. But they wouldn't have tried anything if Frank had been there.

…

…

"He saved me." Cullen realized, and he hadn't even had the chance to thank him…

wouldn't have the chance to thank him if it hadn't been for Batman. He didn't remember much from the immediate aftermath of the assault but he swore that for a minute Frank had a skull for a face, to which he attributed to the pain but as the day had passed the image had become clearer and the memory had not changed. He remembered being lifted into hard arms and looking up through half swollen eyes to see the white skull with a red x on his forehead.

There was a part of him that couldn't really believe that Frank was moonlighting as a superhero… it wasn't like him at all. Not that Cullen was calling Frank a bad person, it was just that it seemed like something brash, and if one knew Frank they knew he wasn't brash. Then there was Joe, if he knew Frank was hero, he would worry and Frank didn't like to see his brother worry.

Cullen stood in the shower silently in the shower trying to distinguish pain induced hallucination and reality. He lost track of time but was prompted out of the shower when his wounds stopped stinging and started hurting. He grabbed an orange towel that he'd brought up from his own apartment.

Frank hated anything orange.

Never mentioned why.

Cullen quickly dried off an got dressed in a t-shirt and some running shorts, he was about to close the curtain when he heard the distinct sound of a window opening in one of the adjacent rooms. Now the fact that there wasn't a scream accompanied after the thud of a window opening meant that whoever it was that come in through it was familiar with Harper's brand of security, which narrowed the list people into two and of the two of them Joe would never use the window.

So, he exited the bathroom intent of warning him about an overly exited Harper when he came face to face with the same skull he'd just spent trying to convince himself wasn't real just laying on the bed while Frank who was in the process of peeling of the top layer of the same suit he's seen the day before.

"Oh, shit." Frank said as soon as he caught sight of Cullen.

XxX

Joe had always been a white hat.

Selfless, generous, and often at times too trusting, it was why he gave up a promising career in medicine to take care of his brother after their parents had died. His mother had named him that in honor of the nameless protagonist of the first movie his father had taken her on a date. But it was clear from the beginning that he was no Clint Eastwood.

His mother had always adored and hated his name and he wouldn't know why until after her death. Her father, Joe and Frank's grandfather, was a monster going by the name Joseph Powers Junior. He was a depraved man that if Frank ever leaned his name he would undoubtedly spend years in Blackgate. Their great-grandfather was a different story though, he had used his remaining power to help spirit away their mother and help her build a life in New York after she had attempted to take her own. So in truth he was named after a good man

His brother used to be a very happy boy before the state had sent him to the Gather House… but then again watching your parents die at any age could potentially change his attitude as well, so he honestly couldn't blame them completely for the slightly antisocial tendencies Frank had developed under their… "care" but the change was rather marked.

The reason that Joe was at Arkham was because none of the other shifts at the hospital paid anywhere near as much as the Asylum did and they were in desperate need of orderlies. The plan was to make enough money to take Frank on a vacation and hopefully visit their parents who were still buried in Jump city.

Of course things never went as planned.

Black Mask cut of the skin off his face in an effort to 'liberate' him, which landed him in the infirmary until the storm passed and they could transfer him to Mercy. which for some reason was empty an the anesthetics were turned off which meant that sooner rather than later he was going to fowling in pain.

Look where being the white hat had gotten him, bleeding, drowsy, and unsure if this was some sort of punishment for some misdeeds.

Out of the corner of his eye a woman in a fine white dress and simply styled blonde hair stepped into view, she had a small beauty mark under the corner of her right eye that made her instantly recognizable. She was Samantha Vanaver, owner of Gotham's Grand Royal and heiress to the Vanaver family holding which owned more than half of the hospital in which he worked in.

Her companion, however he didn't have he slightest inkling towards his identity. With her was a man dressed in a black body suit and multiple daggers and golden goggles over his covered face, the glass of the goggles reminded him of an owls penetrating stare.

"Joseph Lawton." She spoke calmly, with a soft smile on her delicate lips. "I would like to present an offer that will ensure that no one will ever suffers the way you have, an offer that will purge this city of the filth like Roman Sionis. Will you help us save Gotham?"

XxX

A/N: And here goes chapter three, shorter than the rest but I felt I ended it well. Sorry for the delay. My computers Hard Drive died and I had to get a new one, I also lost a few chapters that didn't save over to my backup.

Issues made reference to in this story:

Death: the High Cost of Living –Issue 2. I used a nameless minor character from this issue. Her story was great and I felt like honoring her in this story. Also, Used Foxglove and her song Donna's Dream.

Mother Panic – Issue 8. The revelation that Gather House was working with the Court of Owls was a surprising one and sort of adds to the drama surrounding that will soon be revealed in the coming chapters.

As for a mentor for Red X, I am unsure of who I'd pick. Catwoman is great option but I would like to hear other suggestions. If you do make a suggestion please explain the why this character would be a good mentor for Red X.


	4. Ingranaggio Microscopico

"Take a little walk to the edge of town  
And go across the tracks  
Where the viaduct looms  
Like a bird of doom  
As it shifts and cracks  
Where secrets lie in the border fires  
In the humming wires  
Hey man, you know  
You're never coming back."

-Red Right Hand, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Jade Nguyen sat relaxed on the south most bench of Cobblepot Park. She was dressed in a plain grey hoody, a pair of jeans, a worn pair of shoes, and a Gotham Knight's baseball cap. She had her eyes closed as she looked at the grey morning sky, a satisfied grin spread across her lips.

"Red X." She said it as if she were tasting the name. From the moment Jade laid her eyes on the black clad rogue she was fascinated. His brutality was thrilling and the efficiency of his movements… the man was trained to be a soldier… no… that wasn't quite right… a soldier wouldn't have leaped at her with the intent of taking her head… no… Red was something so much better.

He was like her sai, a weapon that would cut through his enemies with precision. He was unlike most of the other people pretending to be heroes, he saw a problem and he dealt with problem. It was true that many in the League had scolded her for her tendency to jump the gun when it came to recruitment but after watching Red tear into a man nearly twice his size Jade knew that he would be the perfect recruit for the League of Shadows.

…

Or a pet… if that failed…

There was, of course, an off chance that Red wouldn't succumb to her charm and all the effort she planned to invest on the armored clad boy-toy would be for nothing… which would be disappointing. It had been so long since she had a pet… Shiva had made get rid of her last one.

Jade was drawn away from her thoughts when she caught a glimpse of long blonde hair. For a split second she thought she saw a familiar face. The assassin followed the blonde haired girl with her eyes and sighed in relief when it turned out to be a trick of the light.

Gotham was a place of memories that she would have rather remained in shadows but there were few places she'd rather be.

It was then that a tall muscular man stepped out from the alley. His eyes were bright amber and his dark skin was marred by scars. He was bald but that was just the way that Benjamin Turner preferred it. Jade perked up once she spotted Bronze Tiger. He fascinated her and it had nothing to do with their feline theme, no, she was interested in the fact that Lady Shiva had somehow twisted the once hero into believing that he had been raised by Ra's Al Ghul himself.

"You're late." She taunted in a sing song voice but didn't move from her spot.

"You left some loose ends at the warf, Cheshire" He growled, drawing himself to his impressive height. "If the Master were still here-"

'But he's not." She interrupted with a slight scoff. "The current head doesn't really care what we do unless we cross her precious Heretic." Which was true. Thalia didn't care for her assassins as Ra's once did.

"Watch your tongue, girl, or you might loose it."

All mirthfulness in Chesire's body disappeared as she readied herself to strike. Her muscles coiled and her right hand caressed the sai hidden in her hoody pocket. "Is that a threat?"

"Not yet." He stood there looking menacing for half a minute before fishing a file from his coat pocket. "A priority target has arrived in Gotham, Andrea Beaumont, all contracts suspended until either her capture or death."

"Curious." Jade said as a grin slipped onto her lips. Andrea Beaumont had at one point been fiancé to Gotham's favorite son. Rumor had it that she'd caught Wayne in bed Silver St, Cloud but Jade didn't put much stock into rumors. Sure, Silver was a beautiful woman but Wayne wasn't as much of a playboy as he'd pretended to be. It was much more likely that one of her family members fell in with the wrong crowed and they had to go under.

"Not really." Bronze Tiger said taking a step back. "It is the will of the Mistress that she be removed and that is what were are going to do."

"How long do we have?"

"Long enough."

It seemed she was going to be sticking around a while longer….

Much longer than she originally planned.

'Oh, well.'

XxX

It wasn't a pretty morning.

It was grey, ugly, and despite the storm substantially weakening it was still thundering. The wind howled and its bite was unusually brutal for the mid November Indian summer they had been living through for the past two weeks. It was almost as if the city were trying to warn them of the coming chaos but no one was listening.

Gordon wasn't a superstitious man but he could tell that something was coming and he sure as hell didn't like it. Masks didn't try to go after Bruce Wayne if they weren't trying to get Batman's attention. The Court of Owls was a myth that rivaled the growing legend of Batman. Everyone knew about it but no one had exploited it quite like the assassin threw Gotham's favorite son out of the original Wayne Tower.

The Commissioner stared at his mirrored reflection off of the hotels elevator door as it zoomed up to the penthouse club. Gordon looked like shit and having slept two hours out of the usual three wasn't doing him any favors. The forty six year old detective took a long drag from his cigarette and let his scowl deepen considerably.

' _You smoke too much_.' He told himself every day he came back to his apartment that he used to share with his little Barbara. ' _You're going to die because you smoke too much…'_ It was true. Ever since Barbara, his ex-wife, had taken James Jr and gotten the hell out Gotham, Jim had taken to the habit of going through at least a pack a day. It was the healthiest way he knew how to relieve stress. Bullock took to booze, Sawyer threw herself into her work, and James smoked. ' _You're going to die because everyday_ _you go to bed at five in the morning and you tell yourself you smoke too much_.'

Each one brought their own little coping mechanism to the fold and as long as it didn't break the law Gordon didn't particularly care what the men and women under his command got up to in their free time. Frankly, he was too busy worrying about Barb to deal with other people's personal lives.

She had spent the last two years recuperating both physically and psychologically from when Joker tried to break him. The bastard had shot her in the stomach, stripped of her clothes, and took pictures of her naked squirming body on the carpeted floor of her dorm room. It was a testament to her strength that she recovered to the extent she already had.

Barbara was blessed with eidetic memory from birth. It had helped her with school and even helped with socializing with the younger of the Lawton boys. It had been such a great thing until the Joker had ruined it for her. He had haunted her dreams and lingered in he shadows for the months she spent at the hospital.

Barbara never talked about it and by now Jim had stopped asking.

Yet…

…Somehow… she found a way to escape him and when the doctors said she would never walk again… she ran.

Despite all that…

Despite the recovery…

Despite the time that had passed…

He could still hear that monster's chilling voice and the words he said before sending him through the tunnel from hell.

_"Memory's so_ _**treacherous** _ _. One moment you're lost in a_ _**carnival** _ _of_ _**delights** _ _with poignant childhood_ _**aromas** _ _, the flashing neon of_ _**puberty,** _ _all that sentimental_ **_candyfloss_ ** _…_ _Th_ _**e next** _ _, it leads you somewhere to you don't want to_ _**go** _ _, somewhere_ _**dark** _ _and_ _**cold** _ _filled with damp ambiguous shapes of things you'd hoped were_ _**forgotten."** _

He was brought out of his thoughts when the mirrored door slid open revealing what once had been the Moffat Lounge. The first and last time James had set foot inside this… establishment was when they had finally been able to successfully arrest former city councilman Rupert Thorne and it had changed drastically since then.

What had once been dark wood, leather seats, and pool tables, was now some kind of discotek/Strip club with light up dance floor and plastic see-through chairs. The two VIP rooms overlooking the dance floor were destroyed, two bodies were found with their throats slit and scorch marks on their abdomens. Joseph "Tattoo" Miller and William "Skullface" Carp were known low-level members of Sionis' False Facers.

All muscle, no brains, just fodder for Black Mask's plans.

Their boss, Malcolm "Mad-Eye" Sweeny, was laying dead with, according to reports, a crossbow bolt through his 'mad eye'. His limbs were twisted and there were three red X shaped throwing stars sticking out of his legs. Jim wasn't sure if they were normally red or if the foreign objects absorbed the victim's blood.

Gordon spotted Officer Ellen Yindel standing guard by the elevator, making sure that only authorized personnel were allowed into the crime scene. She was tall and bulky, her short red haired was hidden under her officer hat. She was good cop, but Gordon hesitated giving her too much credit. Officer Yindel followed orders and stuck to protocol like a tick. She didn't improvise or inspire loyalty… but it wouldn't be surprising if she ended up being the next commissioner, if the current trend of Mayors continued.

She saluted and he acknowledged her with a slight tilt of his head.

Jim's eyes trailed over the rest until they laded on short blond hair belonging to Jack Forbes. Now, many cops despised I.A. out of principle but not Jim, he knew they were just good men and women doing their jobs… but Jack Forbes was a special case. Forbes was a relic of a pre-Zero Year Gotham, He acted too much like Arnold Flass for anyone to really like him but the differences was that he wasn't stupid enough to get caught in the same antics.

Forbes, to Jim's displeasure, was lurking around the crime scene like a vulture looking for a meal. Gordon almost had Forbes thrown out but he knew if he did Mayor Hady would be breathing down his neck far after the current crisis had concluded.

As such he swallowed up his pride and walked past him without giving Forbes a second thought.

Malcolm Sweeney used to be a half decent boxer before he was banned for using brass knuckles under his gloves after a particularly brutal loss to Ted 'Wildcat' Grant. After that he slid down the slope until he hit bottom… and there he was found by Black Mask. Roman was a master manipulator, it didn't long for him to break what was left of Malcolm and rebuild him into the thug he had been till today.

No one would cry over his casket. His son had left Gotham to join the MCPD, managed to do some good before running into Intergang. His wife was dead, beaten to death by an unknown assailant. Gordon always suspected Malcolm committed the murder but it wasn't his case and by the time he came into a position to do something about it the files had been flushed from the system.

Now, he was dead and whoever was able to inflict this type of brutality to a man nearly seven feet tall with three hundred something pounds of muscle, bone, and metal was walking about Gotham unchecked without a discernable agenda.

This kind of attack wasn't random and certainly personal. This was a statement of intent, he wasn't going to stop, not until he got what he was looking for, and that would undoubtedly lead to death.

Gordon was sure that the cape didn't kill Malcolm.

That was clear enough, thanks to YouTube.

Video captured by at least sixty witnesses on their smartphones. No one lifted a finger to help or call out to stop they just stood there with their phones out watching as man was beaten half to death before a crossbow bolt pierced his skull.

That's where the real problems started. Cheshire was an assassin who was wanted in five different countries for wiping out an entire cartel's hierarchy alone.

Batman had to know that she was in Gotham.

He always seemed to know things before Jim ever mentioned them, but something told him that the Bat had bigger fish to fry. The assassin that went after Bruce Wayne wasn't dead despite what the local news outlets claimed, the ambulance that was transported the supposed corpse was found abandoned near the old Metropolitan Terminal near the edge of town. The two emergency responders were found dead, torn apart as if a tiger had gotten to them.

Of course that wasn't indicative of life but the body bag was ripped open from inside, which in Gotham meant one of two things. The first was that the killer had an accomplice, who wanted to continue the legend, or the bastard pulled a Grundy. Seeing as this was the city that spawned horrors like the Joker, the GCPD firmly believed that he was still alive and that he would try again.

Jim pushed the ' _Talon_ ' out of his thoughts and focused on the more present danger. Cheshire could very well spark a gang very much like the fall of the Falcone family. He had no love for Black Mask, especially after what he did to the older Lawton boy, but the backlash would spill onto the streets and Penguin would retaliate in kind.

"This is some ugly work, commissioner." Doctor Bishop said handing Jim the pre-eliminatory report. "The two vics in the VIP room have some minor burns all over and their throats were slit. Mad-eye here… he's got broken bones in both his legs, a dislocated right arm, and a shattered left one. All of this in less than a minute, Commissioner."

Jim nodded his agreement. "Did the Vigilante hit anything that would be considered lethal in your opinion?" Now this was important. If the subject attempted to kill Malcolm they would be a hole different level of dangerous, but on the off chance that they weren't kill crazy psychopath they could risk not focusing on them while the rest of the mess was sorted.

"From what I can see…" Bishop paused for a moment and took another glance at the body. "…No, but those shuriken… they are not composed of common metals, they could be toxic."

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a figure lurking in the shadows. It waited until it was certain that the commissioner had spotted him before retreating farther into the back of the club.

"I want that report as soon as possible." Jim ordered moving past him, to wards the back of the club.

' _God, I need a smoke._ '

XxX

Frank sat alone in the dark within his brother's room, glaring impassively at the bright computer screen. He was waiting for a lead, anything that could point him in Black Mask's direction. Violet wasn't answering the messages he sent her. Requesting any information she might have on Sionis' operations near the docks. He had theorized that she may have been out fostering her party-girl image, but there weren't any new pictures circulating through the tabloids.

Quiet wasn't something that she did well.

Violet despised the quiet just as much as Frank despised orange. Isolation was a common punishment that Mother Patrick enjoyed dishing out. The silence was almost as maddening as the deep, dark well the guards used to break the more rebellious students in Gather House's care. It wasn't the cruelest thing Gather House did to them but it was pretty bad.

Of course, Frank knew that Violet wasn't his friend. He was an employee and she was the distant boss who came around once in a while asking to tail a few rich bastards every other month. She paid a grand for every tidbit of information, so it was rare for her to not respond to his messages.

**From: Longshot**

**To: Panic**

**Subject: Docks.**

**Seventeen,**

**Need link to harbor security cameras. Now.**

**SEND: Y/N?**

He had written that nearly eight hours ago… after the incident with Cullen. Now that was something he wasn't sure that he had handled it well. Sure he'd sworn him to secrecy but that was the extent of it. Cullen wanted to be journalist, which meant that he would hound Frank for details that the younger Lawton wasn't particularly inclined to share in. This was war and he would take it to Black Mask's home, which meant that any possible leak of information an inexcusable crime.

That being said he wasn't going to do anything to Cullen. Ignoring his questions would be the best course of action, if not the only real course of action that he could viably take. Frank wouldn't harm him.

But he couldn't afford to be tied down like he had been in Gather House. Mother Patrick was a master when it came to hurting people and she knew that the best way to break any human being was to aim for the person closest to them. For Sevente- _Violet_ , he corrected himself, there was Twelve and for Eleven there was Thirteen. He was supposed to trust in her implicitly yet he couldn't bring himself to grow too attached to the pink haired girl with her sinister cat eyes.

They had called her project Fortuna… he still wasn't sure why… not that it mattered as Twelve had died in the same fire that had swallowed the Nightmare.

Frank shook his head in an effort to turn his thoughts into something a bit more constructive… like paying his brother's hospital bills. As much as beating Mad-Eye had done wonders for his mood, the criminal's death had left him in a rather uncomfortable position. Frank had banked on that he would be able to extract Black Mask's location from Malcolm and this get the cash for Joe's surgery by raiding a few of the gangs warehouses. Instead he ended up with three grand in hundred one hundred dollar bills which was a fraction of what they needed to cover the surgeries.

Frustration bubbled as he switched to the Gotham Gazette main page and he notice that there were no mentions of the riot in Arkham or Black Mask's escape. Instead all he found were article about an assassination attempt on Mayoral candidate Lincoln March and Bruce Wayne. Every single article was filled with speculation on how the assassin gained entry to Alan Wayne's Union Station without being caught on camera. Some said that he used the City's Grid to traveled undetected, others speculated that they used the maze of underground rail ways that sprouted from the Metropolitan Station in the outscirts of Gotham. All of it was mindless babble that just mounted until Frank caught sight of a picture of the 'deceased' and his heart froze.

Frank had seen enough broken bodies during his time ate the Gather House and most of them were thanks to the creature in the picture. The younger Lawton hesitated calling the leather clad, owl-themed monster human. He'd seen one tear through some of the strongest subject the school had to offer... and now he was back. There was no way that the fall killed the Talon, no way that a rich boy who'd never been in a fight in his life could stand against something so brutal! It just didn't make sense.

"Shit, shit, shit, FUCK!." He shouted with little reservation. Frank knew he was alone, Harper was busy doing a job at Gotham Academy and Cullen was at covering the game at Gotham North for the day… which left Frank plenty of space do vent his frustrations before coming up with a game plan.

Hell, he already had game plan but the problem was that he was too angry to execute it.

He would have to visit Lola. She used to be a showgirl but was now a fence. She'd have work for while the water levels coursing through Grid lowered. Lola liked helping the community and he didn't doubt that if she couldn't help at least she'd be able to point him in the direction of someone who could.

But as he was, Frank knew that despite the suit, as he was now, he would get himself killed. There were reasons that Black Mask was still around despite the Penguin's Monopoly on organized crime. He'd seen what Roman Sionis did to people he'd never seen with the brutal murder of Professor Chang. Frank knew that he needed to play it smart or Joe wouldn't get the money he needed for treatment. Frank had no confidence in the city fronting the money for the doctors his brother needed let alone the surgery, or the anesthetic.

He was about to let out another frustrated shout when he heard the chime of the doorbell. Frank pushed his emotion to the back of his head. A clear head was needed when dealing with the unexpected.

Frank dressed in a yellow t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting cargo pants. As he descended the stairs he grabbed one of Harper's wrenches that she left scattered about the house. The rain smacked against the frame with a strength that Frank was hesitant of opening the door for fear that it would be blown off the hinges but eventually he opened it when the person behind the door decided to escalate into knocking. It started out as a solid yet polite tapping but it became more hurried as time passed.

Finally Frank opened the door revealing a tall man with strong features, red hair, and light blue eyes and a woman with silvery blonde hair, sharp features, and a small beauty mark under her right eye. The man wore a sandy brown coat over a fine custom tailored black suit. His clothing accentuated the broad shoulders and muscular frame, but his posture was nonthreatening. He had an easygoing smile that reminded him far too much of Mother Patrick to relax.

There was something off about the woman but Frank couldn't put his finger on it. She was superbly beautiful but not in an off-putting way. It was as if he were in the presence of a predator. There was a false disarming smile on her lips and a sympathetic look on her face.

It was a mask that she wore as well as the designer parka that covered her. It was the kind of mask that Frank wore whenever Joe asked about a scar he'd gotten from his time with Gather House. It was a smile that he used to hide his anger so his brother didn't have to pretend to understand what he was going though… because eventually knew that Joe would grow tired of Frank's moods and force him to do something that the youngest Lawton knew he could never do:

Move on.

So, he practiced acting, just like the beautiful woman in front of him.

"It's so nice to meet you, Frank, your brother has told me so much about you." She made a move to embrace him. Frank took enough of a step back that he conveyed his rejection but not enough to step out of the way and invite them in. The woman made a show of reigning herself in. He couldn't tell if it was for his benefit or for her companion's. "I'm sorry Joey warned that you weren't very tactile but after what happened… I thought that you could use the comfort."

"Who are you?" Frank asked, cutting to the point.

"I'm Samantha." She answered as if that explained everything. Frank continued to look at her expectantly. "Samantha Vanaver… Joey's girlfriend." It took a moment for Frank to connect the dots, and link Joe to… this Joey that the now named Samantha kept mentioning, but he did and when he did he finally allowed the woman in.

"Joe hasn't mentioned you before." The younger Lawton said robotically as he led the duo to his apartment.

"I'm a very private person Frank… I didn't want to meet family unless I was absolutely certain that we were serious about each other." For the second time in as many days Frank cursed Joe's sense of nobility. If he had allowed Frank to take a full time position instead of having a few part time jobs, he wouldn't have been working in Arkham and Frank could have corroborated Samantha's story.

Frank nodded as he led them to the living room. "And whose your friend?" Frank took a seat and gestured them towards the couch. Samantha took a seat but the man lingered, extending his right hand in greeting. With caution, Frank took his hand and shook it.

"My name is Thomas Elliot, but you can call me Tommy." The man introduced himself. "And I'm going to be the doctor who re-sculpts your brother's face." Frank shot him a questioning look but before he could ask what he meant Samantha spoke up.

"Thomas is Metropolis' premier plastic surgeon." And that was when Frank knew that Samantha was much richer than he initially assumed. If she was rich enough to get some outside surgeon into Gotham while a storm was going on she had money to spend. Which made Frank even more weary of the woman in the blue parka and solidified his need to find the money for the surgery.

There were no free lunches in Gotham. If someone gave you something they wanted something in return.

Love was no exception.

"I see." Frank said after a while. "Why are you here?"

"I came to take you to Joey." Samantha said with a dazzling smile. "He's being moved to Gotham Memorial Hospital as we speak and I have a car that will take us there."

"Thank you." He said with a smile of his own. "Give me a few minutes to get ready." There wasn't a chance in hell that he was going anywhere with that woman without his suit.

o0o0o0o0o

A/N: Here's chapter four. This chapter is just to set up a few things for future chapters. But let me clear up some points.

Samantha Vanaver as some of you may know is a character from the Batman vs Robin film. She is a part of the Court of Owls but not the head. That dubious honor is a matter of dispute within the Court itself, there are currently two main contenders for the position, the first is Sebastian Clark, the man on the throne, and the other is Joseph Powers, the (Pardon the pun) power behind the throne. She's just playing the board in an effort to usurp the position.

As to the pairing here's the polls so far:

Bluebird: 9

Raven: 7

Cheshire: 3

Still looking for a Mentor for Frank. Name and reasons why.

Please Review. I do enjoy reading your feedback and answer any questions that you may have.

 


	5. Non Sono il Solo

"Make no mistake I don't do anything for free  
I keep my enemies closer than my mirror ever gets to me  
And if you think that there is shelter in this attitude  
Wait till you feel the warmth of my gratitude

I get the feeling that it's two against one  
I'm already fighting me, so what's another one  
The mirror is a trigger and your mouth's a gun  
Lucky for me, I'm not the only one"

-Two Against One, Danger Mouse

Batgirl was rusty. It was obvious as she jumped from roof to roof. Her landings were loud and sloppy, often times she stumbled and struggled to regain her balance, yet she soldiered on. No one could blame for that, her time as Oracle hadn't done her body any favors, but she was back now. Her old costume still fit her but she was a long way a from being anywhere near as strong, flexible, or agile as she had been three years ago.

When she wore her black, pointy eared cowl she wasn't Barbara, she wasn't the daughter of Gotham's Commissioner, she wasn't the victim of a brutal home invasion that left half her body paralyzed, and she didn't panic every time she heard the doorbell. She was Batgirl, star pupil of the legendary Batman, partner to three generation of Robins. The Joker hadn't beat her, hadn't humiliated her, that monster hadn't stripped Batgirl of her clothes and took pictures of her bare, bleeding, body.

And right now, Batgirl was out on a mission. A storm was hitting Gotham, perfect time to get reacquainted with the Monster's Gotham had to offer. Three weeks ago an affluent family in the Brisby suburb, a mother, a father, and a son were slaughtered by four wannabe serial killers. They were tortured, sodomized with objects, brutally murdered, and then posed for investigators to find them. The only survivor was a small girl of seven… just old enough to remember the horror of the worst night of her life and be forever changed by it. The only reason she was alive was because she hid under her brother's bed the entire night.

Her story had been on the front cover on all the local papers.

A week later another family was experienced the same nightmare but this time the perpetrators were sighted exiting the house but no one paid them much attention because they thought they were just adult trick or treaters out on Halloween. This time they left a child alive on purpose, in an effort to make the previous error look like they had done it on purpose. The survivor claimed that the leader wanted to show the world horror.

The police didn't see rhyme or reason to killings, they thought the killers were transients trying to make their names in the city that spawned some of the most deranged human's the world had ever seen.

Batgirl thought differently.

As much as she wanted it to be drifters it didn't fit. There hadn't been murders like this in the surrounding area, this indicated that they were local. They targeted affluent families that had pulled themselves free from poverty through investments into various local companies. They also dressed in vintage costumes, simple references to old horror movies but they were only sold in a handful of shops in central Gotham. Of those only two had sold a bundle of four costumes; out of those two, one was just outside of Brisby.

It didn't take the former Oracle hack into the shop's system and pull out the name associated to the credit card used to pay for the bundle. Theodore Rankin was a straight A student, he was jock, he was charming, and he was surrounded by people that worshipped the ground he walked on. He was clean, too clean. It took her a total on twelve minutes to dig up erased disciplinary notices and criminal violations, they were either expunged, or were deleted before they had been attached to his file.

Rankin's were old money. They helped fund the Cobblepots expansion of Downtown Gotham and recently made some unsavory comments against certain companies that wer pushing into their territory.

Companies where the two dead families invested in.

Theodore was making his way down the list of investors, in the order of how much they invested into these rival companies.

The Ortega's were next, if she was right, she really didn't want to be right.

But as she made her way closer to the family's eighth floor apartment she heard them scream. A split second later she was off the ground thanks to her trusty grappling hook and zooming towards the future crime scene.

Batgirl is lucky, one of the Rankin's group is standing in front of the window with his back turned to it. When she crashes through the glass, feet first, she feels catharsis as soon as her boots connect to his the Dracula masked creep's spine. Batgirl can't explain just how satisfying it was to feel him crumple under the sheer force of the blow. She didn't have time to revel in this feeling as another creep, a woman in a Devil's mask, rushes her with angry red pitchfork.

The vigilante doesn't think, she strikes with enough force that the knocks the mask clean off and she collapses like a hose of cards.

 _'One good thing about being stuck in wheelchair...'_ Batgirl thought to herself as she parried the third assailant. He was a large man, built like a tank. He wore a Frankenstein's Monster mask and a brand new leather jacket. She blocks the wild punch with her forearms. Its has a resounding thump but she wasn't fazed _.' …Upper body strength like a motherfucker!'_

"You knocked out Tonya!" He roared like his Hollywood counterpart. "You Bitch!"

"I did?" she taunts, dodging a wild haymaker. _'I totally did!'_

She twirls, grabbing a lamp from a nearby stand, and struck him across the face. He staggers and falls to his knees but he's not down. Batgirl can't afford to place to much attention on him so she turns to Rankin, who is holding Mrs. Ortega at gunpoint.

"Hey, Hey, hey." The Ghost themed maniac called out to her. "Hold on, I'll kill them." He warns before shrugging. "I was going to anyway but now you get to watch!"

She distracted by the gun. It makes her freeze just long enough for Frankenstein to get in front of her and grab her armored hands with each of his. This snaps her back into reality. Batgirl thanks her dad for pushing her into gymnastics because it allowed her to pull off the perfect move to knock her captor down.

She uses his arms like balance bars, tightens her core and used all her upper body strength to lash out wit a kick to the chin. The bone cracked and he collapsed right after she freed herself. Once again she turns to Rankin but this time she has a batarang ready behind her back.

"You're spoiling EVERYTHIG!" He shouted like a petulant child. "I will blow her head off!"

He'll do it.

Batgirl can see it in his body language.

 _'Fight a monster, become a monster._ ' Her mentor's word ring in her head. _'Gotham bless my aim.'_ Batgirl knows that she need to get the gun away from Mrs. Ortega, so she takes a page out of Dick's book. Best way to get his focus away from a hostage is to piss him off. So… she laughs.

"What the hell are you laughing at!?" His gun's moving to wards her but the batarang is already flying. It digs itself in his wrist, making him simultaneously release his gun and bleed.

"You, little man."She can feel the smirk on her lips. He's screaming but she doesn't stop. "Thought you were gonna terrify the world, right look at you. You're a punk. A nobody, I'm frankly amazed you haven't wet yourself." He charged faster than she had expected. In her moment of victory she overlooked one crucial detail about Theodore Rankin. He'd been in Gotham Academy's football team before joining the one in Gotham University.

Without a care for himself, he tackled her though the glass screen and over the balcony. It's thanks to pure reflex that she manages to grab both the railing and Rankin before they became pavement pizza.

The bastard makes a wise crack about if he's a nobody, why hasn't she dropped him. She responds with one of her own but she can't focus on the words.

Mr. Ortega helps pull them up.

Mrs. Ortega calls her Batwoman as she thanks her. Batgirl gives her a reassuring smile and corrects. They think she's a hero, that she indomitable. They don't notice that her legs are shaking nor how she really needs to go to a bathroom.

She was lucky.

She would count it as a win… but she knew that Bruce wouldn't.

She's rusty, too rusty.

She makes her way to Cherry Tree Hall on the nicer side of Gotham, near Cathedral Square, next to Grant Park. She goes through the back as to not rouse attention from the neighbors but once inside she was fine. Her roommate, Alysia Yeoh, is working at her bar, so thankfully she was alone.

She strips out of her costume and crashes on her bed. Unconsciousness greets her like an old friend… and so do the terrors that haunted her dreams.

When she wakes up a few hours later she's Barbara Gordon once more. She's sweating like she's been working out all night but in truth it had been a nightmare that caused this.

She was Barbara Gordon of the Eidetic memory, the woman that couldn't forget… no matter how much she wanted to.

 ** _He_** had haunted her nightmares. The bastard that had stolen her life away from her but she would never allow him to own it. Barbara Gordon had made killing by founding her own company, she had succeeded in living with herself despite what he did to her.

It's almost sundown when she wakes to a plain room with only a bed and a closet to for her clothes. Her 'work' phone is vibrating. Its tapped to her dad's work cell… bite her, she didn't have batsignal to know when trouble was going down.

Yet.

-Shots fired in Gotham Memorial. Unknown number of assailants. Send back up!

It takes her two minutes to put on her armor, a minute and a half slower than it took her three years ago. She made her way to her van and climbed onto the one thing she couldn't part with after she lost the use of her legs. Her motorcycle road to life, she preformed regular maintenance for when she could use it once more.

XxX

Three bridges, four small islands, and six hours of traffic had left Frank in a more than sour mood than he had been when he had departed. Thomas had been more than content to lay on the finely upholstered chair and sleep until they arrived at their destination, Samantha on the other hand chatted with Frank for the whole the time. There was food in the limo that he hadn't known existed

Frank looked exhausted but he tried to conceal it by pulling up the hood on his dull red sweatshirt. He wore baggy pants in an effort to conceal the Red X armor from the two unknowns that had recently walked into his life.

If he could sleep, he would have but the Gather House had altered his brain so that he was incapable of sleep unless he was in his designated bed. He could space out and enter a state that made him relive his memories Modifications were done to his body that helped him fight exhaustion and react faster than someone with his conditioning possibly could. Not that Samantha knew this, she was just an energetic person that would not leave him alone.

The problem was that no matter how cheerful and empathetic she presented herself to be, her micro expressions gave her falseness away. She was beautiful predator and he could understand what Joe, if what she chatted about was true, was dating her. His brother wasn't the best judge of character, he didn't even suspect the horrors that Mother Patrick put him through. He always saw the best in people but Frank tended to see the worst.

Samantha Vanaver reminded him of an iconic line from the _Outlaw Josey Wales. "Hell is coming to breakfast."_ Butch Cassidy would have said that his brother wore bifocals, because he didn't see things as clearly. Now Frank, he had Vision. Monsters were easy to spot when you could see things faster than most.

When they arrived at Gotham Memorial, Frank couldn't help but fill with awe at one of the oldest hospitals in the city. It was one of the few building one could see the city's evolution with. The oldest section was gothic while the newer parts ranged from brick to more modern architecture provided by both Wayne Industries and Lexcorp. The older part of the building was converted into a museum to distract visitors from the plight of their loved ones.

Finally, The limo came to a full stop and Thomas awoke almost instantly but by then Frank had already jumped out of the vehicle.

Frank ran to the front desk, nearly running through the sliding doors when they didn't open fast enough. A blond woman with azure eyes and a kind smile looked at him oddly from the reception desk.

The white desk had a plaque that read: _Hi! I'm Heidi._

"I'm here to see Lawton, Joseph." Frank said quickly.

"Your name and relationship with the patient."

"Frank Lawton." He responded with a bit of bite in his tone. How could he not? His brother was somewhere in this godforsaken death house. "Brother."

The woman nodded her head and began typing something into her computer. Her brow scrunched up and then her eyes widened slightly as her face set in shock. "Joseph Lawton is currently sedated, Mr. Lawton and his attending physician has ordered that no one be allowed into his room without his knowledge."

"Can you put me in contact with this doctor?" Best way to deal with something is always to cut out the middleman, as his father used to say.

" Doctor Thorpe is currently-"

"Doctor Thorpe is not Joseph Lawton's primary Physician." Thomas interrupted as he approached flanked by Samantha. "If you look closely you'll see that his emergency contact, Samantha Vanaver, the lady beside me transferred that position to me, Doctor Thomas Elliot." The tall doctor already had his ID in hand and nearly shoved into the receptionist's face.

"I need to-"

"Let the boy pass." Thomas completed with withering glare. The man was far too scary to be a regular plastic surgeon, Frank noted, but as long as he could see his brother he could deal with that later. Reluctantly the receptionist allowed Frank to pass. "You go ahead, Frank. Me and miss Vanaver are going to the cafeteria for some coffee. We'll be right up."

Lawton nodded and made his way towards the steel elevator. The ascent was slower than one would expect from a fast paced hospital like Gotham Memorial but it wasn't slow enough for his nerves to get the better of him. Fourteen dings later and the younger Lawton brother arrived on Joseph's floor. There were armed officers situated at a nearby room but he move swiftly by them.

Frank clutched his brown knapsack closer by its strap. It used to be Joe's but with his own backpack riddled with holes he needed it to transport his helmet. He moved all the way to the end of the hall and paused once he reached his brother's door.

 _'At Gather House, each one of our classrooms will be a garden where tomorrow blooms._ '

His covered hands shook as he reached for the doorknob. "Shut up." He told the witches voice. He clutched the piece metal as if his life depended on it. With the strength boos the suit provided it was no wonder that it dented under the pressure.

_'We're growing Gotham's future, strong and true, to build a better world for you and me.'_

_The room was completely shrouded in darkness, with the exception of the machines monitoring Joe's health. Frank fiddled with the switch until he managed to turn it on. He would have been embarrassed if he weren't so nervous._

' _The path is clear, the goal is well in sight.'_

_His brother wasn't moving but the beeping from the heart monitor indicated that he was alive… or at least that his heart was still beating. He'd only ever seen someone so still when they made him-_

_"_ _No, no, no, no, no, no…" He couldn't think like that. Joe was going to be okay._

_Joe had to be okay._

_'_ _At Gather House, the world can be set right.'_

_Frank's heart was beating out of control while his feet carried him to his unmoving sibling. He could see blood under the bandages, still fresh, they would need to be replaced. He was closer to the edge than when he had attacked Cheshire. So much so that he felt himself shake with each step he took._

_The death of his parents had taught Frank despair, he did not know if he could survive his brother's passing, not even with Harper and Cullen's full support… it would be too much. It would be worse than when Gather House broke him._

_Because this time there wouldn't be anyone to pick up the pieces and put them back together._

_It was then that the door opened with a loud creaking sound, which caused him to turn on his heel and drew his hand back. He would protect his older brother against anyone that would cause him more harm. He lowered it when he saw tan woman in a cream colored, waist length trench coat standing at the door. Frank didn't recognize her but the badge on her hip said GCPD, so he assumed she was one of Gordon's officers._

_"_ _Who are you and who gave you authorization to be on this floor?" Her had was resting on her gun. GCPD had been notorious about their itchy trigger fingers before Batman now their reputation has grown exponentially._

_"_ _Frank Lawton." He responded, eyes lingering on her weapon. "Doctor Thomas Elliot said I could visit my brother." He tilted his head to gesture to his brother. "What can I do for you…" She wasn't in uniform, so he assumed, detective. "Detective…"_

_"_ _McKenna." Her hand dropped but her gaze remained weary. "Your 'doctor' should have called-"_

_"_ _McKenna!" An older man in a grey suit and a bald head bursted into the room with a scowl. "Leave the kid alone we have a job to do."_

_"_ _But, sir-"_

_"_ _Doctor Elliot warned me he was coming if you hadn't been so gun ho I would have gotten the chance to tell you that!" He hissed as an orderly peeked their head through the door. "Now, come on. Before Gordon has both our hides"_

_Detective McKenna looked like she wanted to say something but shook her head and left clearly embarrassed. The other detective nodded his head and mumbled an apology before disappearing right behind her._

_XxX_

_Back on the reception desk Heidi was typing into her computer furiously. The files on Joseph Lawton had been changed by Doctor Thorpe and she wanted to know why._

_"_ _I'm here to see Rankin, Theodore." A new comer said._

_"_ _Name, please." She didn't bother looking up, her focus on completely on her computer._

_"_ _Mirror." Before she could question what she heard a large, brass knuckled fist slammed into the side of her head knocking her out._

_A nearby security guard drew his pistol and aimed at the attackers chest. "Freeze or I'll shoot."_

_The new comer shot him before he could pull the trigger. The bullet struck his forehead which exploded in a shower of blood._

_"_ _I believe you." The figure said as he stepped over the dead body._

_He walked towards the elevator calmly with guns drawn. Once inside he pressed the button for the fourteenth floor. Once the door closed and everyone in the lobby got over their shock a symphony of screams erupted that could be heard from within the sealed metal box that would take him to at least two of his targets._

_The figure was tall male, his armor was covered in broken mirror pieces that reflected his view of this torturous world He was covered by a dark green cloak that hid the reflection until he absolutely needed it._

_He pulled a list of names from his belt and examined them._

_Frank Lawton_

_Barbara Gordon_

_Harper Row_

_Theodore Rankin_

_Joseph Lawton_

_One Hundred more, names were scrawled onto the paper. Men and woman that escaped their fate only to continue to exist in their broken world. Mirror would save them._

_He was their angel and that meant only he could release them form their torturous existence!_

_XxX_

_The moment Frank heard screams he was placing the helmet on. He ripped up his clothes and drew his hands back, bringing his throwing stars into existence. A flic of his wrist shut of the lights leaving him in the darkness that had enveloped his brother before he arrived._

_Then he heard gunshots, two to be precise, one for each guard in the hallway. There was a pause before he heard two more shots fired, this time for the detectives in the room. He heard a man scream and beg, followed by the sound of glass breaking and the scream become more distant._

_Frank stayed unmoving in front of the door._

His father once told him that the best way to beat his opponent would almost always be to rush them. His exact word were: _"You go for a man hard enough and fast enough, he don't have time to think about how many's with him; he thinks about himself, and how he might get clear of that wrath that's about to set down on him."_ _He hadn't found out that he was quoting a movie character from True Grit till years after he had passed, but just cause he got the lesson from a movie didn't meant that it wasn't true._

_So, when he heared heavy footsteps approach the door, he was ready to give the bastard hell!." The door burst open and a cloaked figure walked in._

_"_ _Joseph Lawton. You should have bled out on the floors of Arkham. Witness your true face!" He spread his arms revealing a myriad of mirrors. Franks response was to throw his projectile and interrupt the figure's ritual. All six shattered the mirrors under the man's cloak while Fran got in close before he could draw his guns. As if reading his intent the suit deployed two X shaped blades that began whirling like saws._

_The figure reacted fast enough to avoid the saws but not fast enough to dodge the elbow to that followed them. He lashed out with a straight punch to Franks protected face. The hit made Lawton stagger but soon enough he was back in front of the man trying to hack his limbs off. The man Frank was facing punched hard enough that he could compare it to the assassin he had faced the night before but that wouldn't matter in the end,_

_Frank wasn't going to lose when Joe's life was on the line!_

_The wall suddenly exploded as a bat themed motorcycle burst through the wall._

_Bat meant hero, and heroes kept people safe. A mane of Red hair was flowing beneath the cowl which indicated that this was supposed to be Batgirl or Batwoman… couldn't really tell as he fought off his brother's would be killer_

_"_ _Get him out of here!" Frank shouted over his shoulder as the Mirror themed murderer attempted to grapple with the Red X._

_"_ _I don't know who either of you are but Big Man you shot a cop." She was trying to stop him with words! Frank would have protested but he had much more important things to do. "Your life is over, so make it easy for yourself and assume the position!"_

_"_ _I don't think so."_

_In Gather House they taught Frank how to kill, never to subdue, they taught him never to hesitate. He could have broken out of it if enemy hadn't used his forward momentum against him and put him in a headlock. With his free hand he aimed the gun straight at Batgirl and she froze._

_Before he could get a shot off, Frank had regained his footing and used it to throw the bastard across the room and out the window. He wasn't sure if it was the glass or the mirror's on his body that made the shattering sound but he didn't stop moving until he was sure that his enemy was falling to his death. He stood at the edge but was disappointed to see the mirror themed Villain pull a grappling hook from his belt and shoot it towards a nearby building._

_Frank turned to stare at the still frozen Batgirl. He clapped his hands inches from her face pulling her out of whatever had her trapped._

_"_ _I'm borrowing your bike." He told her in a tone that would have brokered no room for argument from anyone other than a member of the Bat-Family._

_"_ _Like hell you will!" She protested._

_"_ _I don't have time for this." Frank hissed moving past her. "Neither do you so get on, we're going after him." He was already regretting pulling her out of her daze but unlike him she was Gotham City Veteran._

_Batgirl weighed her options before reluctantly agreeing._

_He got on the motorcycle and was shortly followed by Batgirl. "How are you planning on clearing the distance between buildings?" She demanded once she was secure._

"Like this." Frank reeved the motor and shot out through the hole where Mirror had been thrown through. There was a moment of weightlessness and then they flickered out of existence. Batgirl was shocked when they reappeared atop a building that had been at least two hundred feet mid jump. Batgirl looked at her new ally with trepidation.

Tech like the one he was displaying was dangerous and he was an unknown but as of that moment they were allies. They could try to kill each other later.

Without stopping they continued the process until they closed began closing the gap between them and the murderer they were both trying to stop.

Between Black Mask and this asshole, Frank wasn't in the mood to let this guy go.

He'd either be dead or in chains but there was no way he was getting away with targeting his brother.

XxX

On a plane circling Gotham an aristocratic woman sat alone in a private jet waiting to land. She was in her thirties with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. She hadn't been in Gotham for years but she knew that her former home would be interesting but none of that mattered as she watched the computer screen.

The woman had to admit that Professor Chang had done an admirable job picking his assistant as the suits pilot. The boy had all the qualities that she needed to bring back Gotham from the brink. Circumstance had made him the perfect candidate to aid her in her crusade to liberate the city!

But that could wait until he grew into the suit.

But she was patient, she had waited ten years for this what was another month or two?

None the less Andrea Beaumont smiled as she watched the feed from the Frank's Suit.

XxX

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's chapter five. I hope you like my introduction to Batgirl! Frank's first team up and its its with a old friend. Now, I know that I've been introducing characters but remember that this is still very early in the story and the DC universe is huge and interconnected.
> 
> So i think ive narrowed down who Frank's mentor is going to be down to three people:
> 
> 1\. Andrea Beaumont aka Phantasm - she was sort of my firs pick when i first came up with the idea for this story as both Red X and the Phantasm share similar motifs.
> 
> 2\. Dinah Drake aka Black Canary- martial artist extraordinare and de facto leader of the Birds of Prey. She's interesting and versitile.
> 
> 3\. Bane aka the Man Who Broke the Bat- because what rivalry wouldn't be complete without some one up manship. Batman trains birds; Bane trains a warrior.
> 
> Vote when you drop a review to share your thoughts.
> 
> Pairing poll:
> 
> Bluebird - 12
> 
> Raven - 8
> 
> Cheshire - 3
> 
> Next update: Short Change Hero


	6. Souno Terribile

"I was five and she was six  
We rode on horses made of sticks  
I wore black and she wore white  
I would always win the fight."

Bang Bang, Monophonics

As Frank used Batgirl's Batcycle to close the distance to his brother's would be murderer he came to the realization that B.F Skinner was a bastard. Conditioning was a bitch when it was harmless but when someone like Mother Patrick used on kids… well that when things became truly ugly. Every synapse in his brain was coming up with effective and quick ways to deal with Mirror but none of them where what he wanted. No, he wanted to make it slow, take his time, and rip out all the information the bastard had about the people who sent him after his brother.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Black Mask was responsible for the assassin targeting Joe.

Not a one.

Which meant that he'd have to deal with Batgirl before he could drag Mirror into the Underground and give him some of what the Gather House did to Frank.

_First strike would be to the back of the neck. Strong enough to knock them unconscious but not to leave permanent nerve damage, no grappling, no fancy techniques, just a simple strike. Then the real would start… they would then drag his limp body to the old water tank that had partially sunk into the swampland and lock him up for days at a time. He'd cry and beg but that didn't matter until it was time for the scalpel…_

Frank pushed those thoughts away. They wouldn't him help reach Mirror and they wouldn't help him shatter him. Instead he focused on the roaring machine beneath him and what he could discern about its origins. He knew the motor was Wayne tech. All Wayne tech motors had a particular hum that was meant to quiet the roar their powerful engines could produce. Kord later adopted this style of motor when they merged with Wayne industries. It was a contrast to Luthor's much louder motor. Luthor wanted his motors to remind whoever heard them of the all American muscle cars, to create a sense of pride and profit from the excess fuel consumption with his 'monopoly' His gloved hand twisted the bike's handle just enough to make the engine roar.

_'_ _Focus on the man in front of you.'_ He thought to himself as he teleported to the next roof. There wasn't anything particularly remarkable about the roof that they landed on except that it was a trap. It had fans to suck in air into the building and vents that released heat, there was simply to many thing s going on for Frank to keep track of while moving at high speeds, but the problem was that he had noticed it. It was just to late to react when he did.

In the moment that it took him to teleport to said roof, Mirror had connected the claw like device that he had used to zoom from building to building and used it as a type of tripwire for the motorcycle.

He had a moment to react before they flipped over… a moment to either bail and leave Batgirl to at worst die or he could shield her with his armor. One would eliminate a potential pestilence that would interfere with his retribution; the other would possibly hurt him lowering his chances of catching Mirror. One proved Mother Patrick wrong, that she hadn't broken him… the other proved that she had succeeded in creating the weapon she set out to forge.

Since he wasn't a complete asshole the choice was rather easy, he just had to imagine that it was Harper and he had pushed himself to move faster than he thought he ever could.

The armor took the brunt of the impact as they slid across the still wet roof until Frank smashed into a metal vent. He gasps for breath as he pushed Batgirl away; it's enough of a struggle without her weight on top of him. Batgirl scrambles to her feet without looking back and gives chase while he tries to reabsorb as much oxygen as he could.

He doesn't take it personally and just ads it to his inexperience making him miss, in hindsight, an obvious trap. After a few more seconds of heavy breathing Frank felt well enough to push himself off the ground and resume his chase. But as her reached the edge of the building he stopped and cursed under his breath. He didn't have the slightest notion about the teleporter's range and as much as he trusted its creators… he wasn't going to jump off a building to potentially become street pizza. Sure, he'd done it with the bike but that vehicle gave him added momentum to close the gap.

What he could do on the other hand is activate the small tracker that he'd left on Batgirls cape when he had shielded her from the crash. The tracker came in an x shaped bug that dug into the fabric with some difficulty. Frank briefly wonders what kind of material the cape was made out of but brushed it off the before the tracker relayed its signal.

A small blip out of the corner of the screen indicated that the chase was back on.

XxX

James Gordon was not having a good day, which was usual since he had moved to Gotham.

Cheshire was running around the city killing Black Mask's men left and right; Someone had made an attempt against Bruce Wayne's life which they had been warned about a day before the attempt by a man pinned to a wall by a hundred small daggers that had an owl engraved into the handle; Batman was clearing the old railways, trying to find the assassin that went after Wayne while causing a disruption to the underworld scum who used them to smuggle contraband into Gotham; and now some maniac calling himself Mirror had shot up a hospital, killed a prisoner under the watch of two of his finest detectives, killing one of said detectives and both the officers, and attempted to murder Joseph Lawton while he was sedated.

Normally, it would be the death of his men that sent his blood into a boil but that was an after thought. Joe had been like a son to Jim, used to watch over Babs and little Franky while they played in the streets. Never started fights with the other kids, never got arrested for partying… never succumbed to Gotham's Darkness. Jim's own blood had. Where Junior went onto become a prolific Serial Killer that was so dangerous that they had put him in cell next to the Joker, Joe became a nurse just so he could get his little brother back.

He's lucky that his daughter isn't back to her nocturnal 'activities' and completely focused on getting her life back together. It was a dangerous time in Gotham it, even more dangerous because of the Joker's absence, Lex Luthor setting up shop, and the escape of Black Mask. Penguin would either move to restore the Black and White Alliance or go on the offensive and eliminate Sionis before he could become a problem. More and more kids in clown costumes were popping up by the day…

Gordon sighed as he made his way to where there where treating his surviving detective. McKenna, the surviving detective, was struggling against two orderlies that were trying their best to put her on a stretcher. "Get your hand off of me!" She thrashed.

"Ma'am, you need to stop moving." One of them urged as grappled with her legs. "We need to-" A leg got loose and smacked the man in the chest nearly knocking him over but Jim was close enough to keep the man on his feet.

"That's enough, McKenna." And it really was. After McKenna had been hit she crawled over to the next room to try to protect Joe. Jim had been in the thick of it before, taken a few bullets and even in the shape that he was in back then he doubted he had the grit to do the same.

The detective stopped her struggling with a soft 'sir' but managed to sit up just as quickly as they laid her down. "They won't tell me what happened to the kid, sir, they wont even let me into check-"

"Lawton's fine, the drugs they gave him kept him under through the whole thing but Paul didn't make it." Paul really was a good officer, started in the GCPD around the time that Jim had but like most other cops he steered clear of Jim because he had the common sense to know that Commissioner Lobe had it out for him. It was a tragedy but this was Gotham and

Melody shook her head vehemently. "Not the patient. A kid maybe eighteen, maybe a little, dark hair, wearing a hoodie. Said he was the patient's brother. He wasn't in the room when Batgirl left."

Gordon's gloved hand tightened around his umbrella handle as two world-changing pieces of information were being processed. Frank… he'd seen him the day before to tell him about what had happened to his brother and now he was, potentially, in a hostage situation with a fucking mad man!

Other than that and the grim mask that had become his face, he was completely composed. He reached for the phone in his coat and put it to his ear. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"What's happening, Jim?" Captain Margaret Sawyer, head of the Major Crimes Unit, answered the phone. She was newer than most of the people he considered to be friends but she was right up there with Bullock. She'd been given her position before the earthquake that took down half the city.

McKenna looked at least ten years older than she did this morning and grew and looked to be aging even faster as the Commissioner explained the situation Sawyer. "Shooting suspect, code name Mirror, has a hostage. Frank Lawton eighteen years old, black hair, about five ten to six feet tall. With any luck Batgirl will recue the hostage before Mirror decides to kill him. I want all available unites looking for him. He's responsible for the deaths of four of our own and a few civilians."

…

He paused; giving Sawyer time to digest is order and time to cool his head. He knew that he couldn't allow emotion to dictate his actions but this attack felt personal. Barbara was in danger and kid he had seen grow into a man was now hostage to a mad man with an unknown agenda… how could he not make it personal? This city had taken so much form Jim and Barbara.

XxX

She froze and that was all it took for Mirror to gain enough distance to almost lose her.

She wasn't used to the running, the rolling, or the impact that ran up her spine every time she landed on a new rooftop but none of that stopped her from chasing Mirror down. It wasn't exactly difficult as it was simply wearing her down. Years in a wheel chair had chipped away at her stamina despite her best efforts to keep her paralyzed legs in shape.

She had frozen when she most certainly could have caught up to him if she hadn't stopped to wonder if she could make the jump.

She was desperate now and in her desperation she had incorrectly measured the distance and the force she needed to clear the space between the buildings. The problem wasn't that she didn't make it, she had made the jump fine but the momentum, angle of descent, and weather caused her to skid over the edge of said roof and onto the man she was pursuing.

Mirror yelped in pain caused by the impact and screamed as he fell. Barbara wasn't' sure what the cop killer was thinking as he fell but she was more worried about what they would say to her dad… how would they explain that they found her broken body in her batsuit…

She manages to land on window's ledge and steady still herself. The impact causes Barbara to grit her teeth and dig her hands onto her abused legs. Her eyes shut closed as thoughts of how she shouldn't be here assault her mind. She's rust but she can handle a few kids playing serial killer but Mirror was in another league. He was trained and had gear that resembled Bruce's.

He fought savagely but efficiently, like a soldier. By the way he moved she could tell that he had to at least be special operations But all those small calculations flew out the window the second she heard him beg for her to rescue him.

"I can't die like this!" The plea was so human that it tugged at Barbara's heartstrings but she couldn't help but snap at the man who had murdered so many in a single night.

"Then you shouldn't have killed a cop!" ' _What if it had been dad?'_ But that doesn't stop her from reaching down to try to help him up. He needed to face the consequences of his actions; he couldn't do that if he was dead.

"You don't understand. I'm not supposed to die this way, Batgirl…" He murmured while reaching for her. Their gloved fingers brushed together for a second but in that second Mirror grabbed her wrist. "You are."

Barbara was shocked as she was sent plummeting to the earth once more. Everything was in slow motion as she fell. Mirror was going in the same direction as always… towards the Hollows, if she had to guess. Not that it would mean much, the nearest surface she could grapple to was the window she had been pulled off of and that would be cut as soon as it connected… everything else was out of range.

She looked at the torrential rain that plagued Gotham's sky and absorbed the details of the clouds one last time. She wanted to say she accepted death in those final moments but in truth she was terrified of the idea.

She closed her eyes and waited for the impact only for it to not come as hard as she imagined it would and from the wrong direction. Instead of an explosion of pain coming from her side, Barbara was struck from the side. She felt strong arms wrap around her torso as the momentum carried her though an open window and to the adjacent building.

"Dick?" She asks, almost certain its her best friend/ slash on and off fling only to be met with a stylized skull looking down at her with a slightly tilted head.

"Maybe later." The distorted voice of her savior responded with a dry but amused tone. "But first we have to get the bad guy, right?"

XxX

A/N: sorry for the delay but my computer died last month and i had wait some time before i could get it fixed. Lost some of my documents, including this chapter, Short change Hero and the next Blue Horizon chapters with it but had a much older back up ready for when i got it fixed. Which really sucks but I'll manage. Thank you for your patience and your support, please drop a review if you feel iike it.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Here's the story that has delayed me for so long. It just kept bugging me until i took time away from working on my other stories. Basically, i wanted to bring Red X into Prime Earth after rewatching Teen Titans, but i didn't want him to be the very same Red X.
> 
> Thus the creation of Frank Lawton. Distant relation to the infamous assassin Floyd Lawton aka Deadshot. His senses and reflexes were enhanced in an attempt to mimic Deadshot's but they were nowhere near as accurate.
> 
> Gather House is a School in which the students are augmented depending on the experiment and the demand. This was introduced in DC/Vertigo comic MOTHER PANIC. They were basically a lab with no true direction from what i can tell.
> 
> Now this is a tricky one,So far i've narrowed it down to one of three potential pairings.
> 
> 1) Raven- Rachel Roth
> 
> 2) Bluebird- Harper Row
> 
> 3) Cheshire- Jade Nguyen
> 
> but since the story is starting out i'm more than willing to hear suggestions.
> 
> Just write in the reviews which one you'd vote for or your suggestion.
> 
> On a another note: looking for a beta message if interested.
> 
> Please be sure to check out my other works and leave review.
> 
> Happy trails.


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